


Drabble Central

by ocaptainrogers



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Cuddling, Ficlets, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, non-au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:05:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocaptainrogers/pseuds/ocaptainrogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A buttload of cockles ficlets i write when i'm bored and have time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. misha is a cuddler

Jensen is kind of glad that he’s the only one who knows about this, no, he’s friggin’ touched and grateful; that Misha is that comfortable around him, that Misha would even _want_ to be this way with him. Misha would wave it off and deny it to the day he died if Jensen ever mentioned it, but truth is; he’s a cuddler. Or better yet, he’s _the_ cuddler.

It didn’t start until they’d been dating for around three months, and even then, Misha only did it when he thought Jensen was asleep. It usually happened after sex, when they were both spent, sleepy and boneless; Misha would loop his arm around Jensen and flip him over so they could lie together, Jensen’s back pressed against his chest.

This was always Jensen’s favorite thing about Misha, how he let his guards down and forgot to act like he thought the public expected of him. He would entwine his fingers with Misha’s and pretend to fall asleep as the older man nuzzled the back of his neck and rubbed his thumb along the length Jensen’s calloused fingers.

It had happened a lot more lately, that he would even start kissing the soft and sensitive skin of Jensen’s neck, gently rake his fingers through the short hairs on the back of his head. Sometimes, Jensen could’ve sworn he even heard him humming.

At first, he’d just feel Misha’s warm, puffing breath hit his skin and think none of it, but if he consentrated, he’d hear the soft voice that was nothing like the gravel-like he preferred when he was out with people. It was that soft, quiet voice he used when it was just him and Jensen.

One night - after they’d been together for three years - when Misha had been snuggling and nuzzling up behind Jensen, to the point of nearly lulling his younger lover to sleep, did he start singing actual words. It was just unintelligible mumbling at first, a sort of quiet murmur that reminded Jensen of West when he talked in his sleep.

He smiled; West was so much like Misha sometimes and it never failed to make Jensen’s heart feel wonky and too-warm inside his chest.

Jensen breathed heavily and pretended to not notice when the murmur changed into words; _“And I took you by the hand and we stood tall, and remembered our own land, what we lived for.”_

His breath momentatily got caught in his throat and for a couple of seconds he completely forgot how to breathe at all, he’d always loved Misha’s voice, especially how tender and affectionate it was when they were alone. Misha’s singing voice was something different altogether, though, nothing like Jensen had ever heard before.

 _“And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears. And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears. Get over your hill and see what you find there, with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair,”_ Misha kept singing, barely audible, but Jensen both heard it clear as crystal and felt Misha’s lips brushing against his neck when they formed the words.

Never having heard Misha actually sing before - if you don’t count rattling off silly tunes to West - Jensen couldn’t believe this was actually happening, and damn it if it didn’t make Jensen want to start crying, for the sole reason of how incredibly beautiful it was.

Unable to hold his tongue any longer, he twitched his fingers and tightened his hold around Misha’s hand, “I love you.”

“ _I saw exactly what was true, but oh no more. That’s why I hold-,_ ” Misha immediately stopped and Jensen could feel his entire body tensing against his own. He was quiet for so long that Jensen regretted even opening his mouth and was about to apologize - for what, he didn’t know - when Misha spoke again. “I love you, too, Jensen.”

To Jensen’s immense relief, Misha seemed to relax again, though not fully, “You were never asleep.” It wasn’t a question, and Jensen had the feeling that maybe Misha had known that Jensen had never really been asleep. That he’d been awake for all of it since the very beginning.

“No,” Jensen whispered and felt the guilt coming back, and the shame for not saying anything sooner. He knew that in some way, he’d violated Misha, no matter how much his own brain told him that wasn’t the case.

Misha just hummed in response and slowly, but surely, he snuggled closer and rubbed his nose against Jensen’s neck again.

“I like it when you sing,” he found himself saying and couldn’t help but smile when he felt Misha’s warm breath hit his neck when he huffed. At least he wasn’t mad. “Don’t stop.”

Misha was quiet for a while before saying anything, he just went through the steps that he’d repeated so many times before. Dragging his warm hands up Jensen’s sides which never failed to make Jensen snigger and try to bat them away when it tickled, to his fingers in Jensen’s hair and his lips on his neck.

“I love you,” Jensen said again, feeling like that was the only apropriate word to utter at the moment, though all he wanted was to invent a word of his own, since he felt the word ‘love’ didn’t quite add up to all the things he felt about the man embracing him. Sometimes, he wished he was a writer so he could do just that.

“ _So give me hope in the darkness that i will see the light cause oh that gave me such a fright, but I will hold on as long as you like. Just promise me that we’ll be alright,_ ” Misha started singing again, voice so loving and affectionate that Jensen felt prickling behind his eyes once more.

Misha finished the entire song before leaning up on his elbows so he could press a kiss against Jensen’s lips, only to find his lover fast asleep; mouth hanging slightly agape, eyelashes lightly resting against his freckled cheeks, he looked so young. Misha felt a fond smile tugging at his lips as he leaned down to kiss the corner of Jensen’s mouth before he laid back down and tugged Jensen closer.


	2. sleepy misha is octo-misha

Jensen really thinks he should’ve been informed about this before they started dating. Not that he would’ve not-dated Misha, it was just that then he would’ve had a general idea of what he was getting himself into. Especially when the day was over and he crawled into bed and under the covers with the man of his dreams. Yes, he knew how utterly cheesy that sounded, but it was the truth.

The thing that Jensen wished he’d been prepared for was Misha turning himself into a 6ft tall, 180 pound octo-human when he slept; an octopus that liked to latch itself onto the being next to it, in what Jensen reckoned to be an attempt to fuse their bodies together.

In the beginning, when they’d just gotten used to sharing a bed, he had freaked the fuck out. He would wake up in the middle of the night, too warm and too sweaty, and then when he tried to move something tightened its hold around him and scooted closer.

That had happened practically every single night for a whole month, until Jensen got so used to it that he didn’t noticed anymore.

It was mostly just weird though, how Misha would – regardless of which position Jensen himself was lying in – always snuggle up as close as he possibly could and wind his arms and legs around what seemed to be every single part of Jensen.

Usually, Jensen would lie on his back with his arms and legs spread out – Misha called him a starfish. Then Misha would turn sleep-time into a snuggle-fest, using Jensen’s chest as a pillow and the rest of his body as the mattress. It never changed and Jensen didn’t want it to.

When Jensen was on his side, so would Misha be. If he was at Jensen’s back, he would push one of his legs in between Jensen’s, put his arm around his waist and make sure his whole front was plastered to his lover’s back.

It wasn’t often that Jensen slept on his stomach, but whenever that was he’d be surrounded from every angle by Misha and his long, lithe limbs. One arm always went around his chest, under Jensen’s armpit to rest on the bed directly in front of the younger man’s face. Misha’s other arm would end up under the pillow, fingers intertwined with Jensen’s from where he too had it bent under it.

Jensen loved the way he would wake up every morning with Misha invading his personal space like there was no such thing as that in their relationship. And it wasn’t either; Jensen had gotten that fact practically spelled out to him ever since the first time he and Misha had kissed.

And people always thought Castiel was the one with the personal space issues.

He especially loved it when Misha was the one who woke first, how he tended to kiss every part of Jensen’s face until he too awakened, saving a kiss to his lips for last.

“Hmm, Mish,” Jensen muttered when he felt his boyfriend’s full lips press feather light kisses over his eyelids and nose.

“Mornin’,” Misha whispered before claiming Jensen’s lips with his own. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Jensen muttered back and deepened the kiss, feeling like they were going to keep the bed warm for hours that morning before wanting to get up and face the rest of the day. Jensen couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do with his time off set.


	3. tea

It’s weird how a relationship works, isn’t it, how much a person can change as they spend the years with their magnificent other - how it isn’t until they actually stop to think about it that they notice themselves.

It’s the little things, mostly, that Misha changed about Jensen. In example; before they got together, Jensen only drank coffee. Wouldn’t even go near the word ‘tea’.

He drank tea now. He didn’t know when he took that first sip of Misha’s _Four Red Fruits_ , the only thing he could think about right then was _holy shit I can’t believe I haven’t tasted this before._

In fact, last week at the grocery store he went straight past the coffee-shelves, eyes fixed on _Earl Grey_ and that other thing Misha hadn’t shut up about.

He didn’t notice it at first either, until Misha mentioned it; “You want some coffee?” it was early in the morning and they were getting themselves ready until Clif showed up so he could drive them to set.

“Nope, just fix me up with some of that morning-tea thingy,” Jensen mumbled sleepily from the kitchen table.

“Ok.”

He heard Misha filling the water-boiler and felt the corners of his lips curl upwards in a small smile; tea time. Then the sound of Misha shuffling across the room to sit beside him as they waited.

“Don’t you like coffee anymore?”

“Huh?” Jensen said and turned around in his chair to look at the man next to him. What an odd question to ask, and so _early_ in the morning.

“Coffee,” Misha laughed and leaned closer so he could loop an arm around Jensen’s waist.

And that’s when he suddenly got it, “Oh my god,” at Misha’s curious look he added, “You’ve converted me, you sneaky son of a bitch.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought either and wondered why Jared hadn’t even teased him about it.

“Well, what did you expect?” Misha enquired before leaning in to give Jensen a peck on the lips. “Your taste buds were bound to come to their senses _sometime_ ,” he smiled and pressed his lips against Jensen’s forehead.

“How didn’t I notice?”

He saw the mischievous glint in Misha’s eyes and covered his mouth with his hand before he got a word out, “Don’t answer that.”

The hot water eventually got done and Misha shot up immediately to fetch them a couple of cups, spoons and teabags.

“I like tea better anyway.”

He didn’t see the genuine smile on Misha’s face, but knew him well enough to know it was there.


	4. misha likes oversized hoodies

“Okay, what is it with you and those … I don’t even know what to call them,” Jensen suddenly says, gesturing towards Misha and failing hard to keep the grin off his face.

Misha furrows his brows and looks down at himself, “It’s a hoodie, Jen.”

Jensen makes an intelligible sound and cuts himself off before even saying a word; he doesn’t really know what to say, except that it’s incredibly adorable. He doesn’t want to get punched in the face either, though, that’s why he’s trying so hard to come up with something else to say.

“I know, but it looks more like a-, a tent. It’s three sizes too big,” Jensen eventually says, still fighting the smile that wants so bad to be on his faceMisha looks down again and pulls the pouch out like he’d testing it, like he wants to see how far out it stretches. Jensen figures it’s enough room for them both in there.

“We’re going to Texas,” Misha eventually says like that explains everything. Which it probably does to him, but not to Jensen. Half the time, Jensen isn’t even sure he really understands _anything_ Misha talks about at all.

“That I know,” he says.

Misha waits a beat, like he thought Jensen was going to add something to that, which he obviously isn’t, “They’re more comfortable to wear on a plane,” he explains and pulls the arms up again since they have a habit of sliding down his wiry arms, leaving just his fingertips poking out from the sleeves.

Again; adorable.

Jensen looks like he’s just had an epiphany and finally allows the smile to spread across his face, “Oh, so that’s why you came back here from San Diego with three massively oversized _Hard Rock Café_ hoodies.”

Misha actually blushes and Jensen just steps forward and kisses him, “You look adorable.”

“Shut your mouth, you wear them, too!” Misha sputters and tries to wriggle himself out of his lover’s hold, but to no avail.

Jensen just smiles, “Well, yeah, but they’re not sasquatch-sized like yours, just comfortably big and cozy.”

“We better get going so we won’t miss our flight,” Misha says, voice barely audible as he slowly leans closer. “Your momma won’t be pleased if we’re late to our own ‘Welcome back to Texas’-surprise party.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jensen whispers back and swallows the tiny slice of air still between them and presses his lips to Misha’s. He really tries to draw away so they won’t actually be late, but then Misha opens his mouth and licks along the seam of Jensen’s lips.

A groan escapes Jensen’s throat and he loops his arms further around Misha’s back, pressing their bodies together. An answering moan sounds from Misha as his hands finds the hem of Jensen’s sweater, he doesn’t wait for Jensen to acknowledge their presence on his hips before sliding them under the soft material of the sweater to dig his fingers in the firm flesh of Jensen’s hips.

Jensen groans again as their tongues dances together in their mouths, sometimes meeting mid-air.

Neither of them knows how long they stand there, but it feels like minutes before the honking of a car-horn jerks their mouths from each other.

“Uhm, I think that’s Clif,” Jensen informs rather pathetically, out of breath and cheeks flushed in a rosy pink color.

Misha doesn’t look much better, “Damn.”

Jensen sniggers and palms both sides of his boyfriends face before kissing him again, “We’re finishing this home in Texas.”

Misha blinks up at him from beneath his eyelashes, mischievous glint in his eyes. He darts his tongue out to moisture his lips, noticing Jensen zeroing in on the movement, before he smiles, “I was planning on it, cowboy.”

Jensen is about to say something back, but Misha cuts him off with a slap on his ass, “Now move that fine ass, we’re late.”


	5. misha likes jensen's freckles

“And then the dog just … jumped ten feet into the air and flew across the lawn, over the pool and landed on the other side,”  Misha said with awe in his voice despite his story being utter bull-crap, and leaned up on his elbows to get a better look at Jensen’s face.

Jensen himself was sporting a dopey smile as he listened to Misha telling stories of his childhood. Made-up stories, mind you. “And what happened then?” he asked and scooted a little closer to Misha on the bed, it was in the middle of the day and they were both fully dressed causing him to briefly wonder why they were on the bed in the first place.

Misha settled into a more comfortable position on his side, holding his head up with one arm and putting the other over Jensen’s chest, resting his hand by his boyfriend’s chin.

“Then my mom told me there was something about the dog having been a part of some sort of experiment involving gamma radiation or something,” Misha finished off with a deep sigh and huffed a half-laugh as his fingers started tracing Jensen’s jawline, chin and then lips.

“Like Bruce Banner?”

A snort, “Yep, just like Bruce Banner. Barky didn’t turn into a giant, green … rage monster when he got excited, though.”

Jensen couldn’t help but laugh at that, “You’re such a weirdo.”

Misha just smiled, “So are you, Mr. I-had-three-rabbits-jumping-around-in-my-backyard-when-I-was-a-kid.”

“Rabbits ain’t weird! They’re just…” Jensen protested and swatted halfassed at Misha’s shoulder.

“Cute?”

“Cute. And totally normal pets,” Jensen said, before adding in a whisper, “They were mostly Mackenzie’s anyway.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, dragging his index finger along Jensen’s nose, tracing the soft hairs of his eyebrows before going down his freckled nose again. He didn’t know how many times he repeated the action before Jensen called him out on it,

“What are you doing?” he whispered, noticing Misha getting a far-away look in his eyes like he was trying to remember something that happened years ago.

“Huh?” Misha asked, but didn’t stop, instead moving his hand down to cup Jensen’s cheek.

They were both quiet for a while before Misha spoke again, “I like your nose.”

“My nose?”

“Yeah,” he started tenderly trailing the pad of his fingertip along Jensen’s nose again.

“I like your nose, too,” Jensen answered and let the contented smile tug at his lips again.

Misha just smiled back and didn’t give a reply to that. Instead he continued caressing his boyfriend’s face until his eyelids slid tiredly down over his moss-green eyes.

“I wish I had the patience, though,” he suddenly whispered and jerked Jensen back awake.

“Huh? Patience for what?” Jensen asked and moved his hand up to tangle his fingers in Misha’s hair so he could pull him in for a kiss, letting their lips linger on each other for a moment before he pulled back and let his head fall back on the pillow.

“To count your freckles,” Misha explained and gave Jensen a peck on the lips, to which Jensen groaned and palmed his face. He hated it when someone, especially Misha, mentioned his freckles.

“Don’t say stuff like that, man,” Jensen huffed, but didn’t remove his hand, as if trying to cover them up. Misha didn’t want any of that, so he just laughed and pulled Jensen’s hand away.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s embarrassing and … hopelessly romantic,” Jensen haltingly explained, a blush rising up his neck to paint his cheeks a rosy color as he cleared his throat.

Misha smirked and started drawing symbols and letters with his finger on Jensen’s chest. “Sometimes when I wake up first, I just lie there and count your freckles.”

Jensen groaned again and closed his eyes, a pout forming on his lips which Misha never failed to find ridiculously endearing. “I got to one hundred and twenty-four before you moved and I had to start all over again.”

This time Jensen brought both his hands up to palm his face, “Please, stop.”

“They’re so beautiful, and there’s this one freckle on the very tip of your nose that I want to kiss all the time,” Misha continued, ignoring his lover’s discomfort with the topic. Misha made a point of pressing a feather-light kiss to Jensen’s nose, barely holding in a laugh the entire time.

“You know, if we ever get a kid, I hope it’ll have freckles like yours,” Misha mumbled after, still making circles on Jensen’s chest with his finger, wrinkling his shirt in the process.

That made Jensen stop short and remove his hands. His brows furrowed and fixed Misha with a look he wasn’t quite sure how to describe, “Are you serious?” there wasn’t mock or disinterest in his voice, quite the opposite, really.

Misha blushed and moved his gaze down to a wrinkle in Jensen’s shirt, he flattened it out, “Yeah,” he muttered, barely audible as if he feared that Jensen wasn’t going to be into that idea. After all, they had a busy job, working long-ass shifts until they came home exhausted and barely able to put the coffeemaker on before falling face-down on the floor the minute the door was closed behind them. There wasn’t much time for a kid in their lives as it was now and he knew it.

“Well, if it’s gonna have my freckles, it better get your blue eyes and dark hair, though,” Jensen said and was a little surprised that his face didn’t split in half when he felt the smile widen.

“Are-, are you serious?” Misha asked, disbelief apparent in his voice, as well as his widened eyes and half open mouth. “D-do you really want-,”

“Do I want to raise a kid with you?” Jensen finished for him and lifted his arm to caress the side of his lover’s face. Misha nodded and Jensen responded in kind, “There is nothing I want more than to raise a family with you, Mish.”

“Is this really happening?” Misha asked and Jensen immediately moved to sit up, dragging Misha up with him. He knew that voice; it was the sound of Misha being _this_ close to tears. He’d always known how much Misha wanted a child, a family of his own. Jensen saw that every time they walked by parents with small kids in the park or in the store, he’d always get that longing look in his eyes.

His arms were around Misha, pressing him into his chest before he’d even registered himself moving, he buried his nose in Misha’s hair and inhaled the smell of fresh shampoo. He smirked as he thought of their post-work shower, but quickly sobered up, he could think about that another time.

“Yes,” he whispered and Misha tightened his hold around Jensen’s back. “Yes, this is really happening.” A choked sob was the only thing that sounded from Misha and Jensen felt his eyes prickling, too. He sniffled and laughed, “Yeah.”

Before he had the chance to say anything else, Misha pulled back and pressed his lips against Jensen’s, palming his face and neck, thumbs stroking back and forth on his cheeks. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”


	6. conventions

Jensen was sitting in the tiny couch in his trailer, feet hanging off the armrest with the rest of his upper body leaning into Misha’s, who was sitting at the other end reading something on his phone. He hoped Misha would get done soon because they were supposed to watch a movie.

He heard a dissatisfied grunt from Misha, but decided to ignore it and pay attention to the scene that was playing out in front of him. They were watching some comedy thing that wasn’t worthy of remembering the name of - it wasn’t very funny.

Misha sighed again and Jensen just closed his eyes and counted silently to ten.

“Jen.”

_Ignore. Ignore. Ignore._

“Jensen.”

“Jenny.”

“Misha, I told you what would happen if you ever called me that again-,” Jensen started, but got interrupted by Misha and his hands as they tugged at his hair and waved him off.

“I know, ‘they won’t ever find your body’,” Misha muttered and Jensen narrowed his eyes at him the best he could, he was lying in the guy’s lap after all.

“You need to work on your imitation skills,” he mumbled before settling down again, waiting for Misha to say what he wanted to say in the first place.

“They’re not letting us sit together this year either,” Misha eventually said and the depressed tone of his voice made Jensen jerk upright and fix him with a worried look.

“What?”

“At Comic Con!”

Jensen had the courtesy to keep from groaning in annoyance and settled for exhaling deeply through his nose, hoping Misha wouldn’t catch up on how he really felt about this conversation.

“What about it?”

Misha looked downright incredulous and furrowed his brows at him, “They’re not letting us sit beside each other at the panel. Come to think of it, the last panel we had together was in Rome!”

Jensen had decided long ago not to let himself get affected by any of this stuff, “That’s because they know you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“Fuck everything,” Misha growled and all but tossed his phone onto the tiny coffee table by the couch. “I’m gonna find a way to touch you every time I get the chance anyway,” he added and stared straight ahead, face expressionless.

Jensen had to take a few moments to let his mind work around what his boyfriend had just said. “Well, you better not try to sneak your arm over Jared’s lap again, pretty sure he’s still mad at us about that one.”

If he recalls correctly, Jared hadn’t been mad, but downright furious. From how he told the story, he’d felt something touch his thighs thinking it was one of those buttheads next to him trying to tell him something, but instead it was Misha’s arm creeping towards Jensen’s pants.

“I didn’t ever get to do anything before he pinched me,” Misha reasoned and by the looks of it he tried his best to look serious, but then just started laughing. “I-I can’t believe that actually happened, though,” he drudged out through the guffaws, “He was so red in the face in the green room afterwards!”

Jensen couldn’t help but smile at the memory and gave a half-laugh, “Yeah, but still; he was pretty pissed.”

“Oh god,” Misha’s laughter finally broke down and he rubbed at his cheeks, “We’re still sharing the hotel room, right?”

“Mish,” Jensen rolled his eyes, “Do you even have to ask?”

Misha just smiled, leaned down to kiss Jensen before suddenly pulling back, “We’ll always have the Jus in Bello convention, though. They really like us up on that stage together over there.”

Jensen just laughed and pressed his lips to Misha’s again.


	7. they finally tell jared

It had been three weeks – three weeks of dating the most awesome guy he’d ever got to known, and Jensen _should_ feel equally awesome. He swallowed down his fear and nervousness one more time and tried to work himself up for what he was about to do; Jared didn’t know and it was way past the time to tell him already.

Jensen and Misha had been going to dates and kissed and curled up together in warm blankets, watching movies and TV and whatnot in Jensen’s apartment for _three weeks_ and they still hadn’t told Jared.

He knew it was unfair not only because it was his best friend, but Jared had told Jensen immediately after getting together with Genevieve. Hell, he hadn’t shut up about her since the minute he first laid eyes on her and now Jensen was left with feeling guilt and shame for not doing the same about Misha.

Today was the day though, today was the day Jensen was going to come out and say it. Pun intended. “God dammit,” he hissed out a curse and once again tried to psyche himself up. He stood by Jared’s trailer and waited for him to come over when the make-up girls were done cleaning his face up.

He really wished Misha could be here right now.

“Jensen?”

“Jared!” he exclaimed and pulled on a bright smile, tossing his arms awkwardly out to the sides like it was some sort of weird welcoming gesture. It looked more like the bones inside his arms had vanished and he was left with flailing limbs that tossed about whenever he moved.

Jared made that face Sam often got when he wasn’t really sure he got what was going on, but had a pretty good idea. “He-ey, man. Eh, what are you doing here?” he asked and bumped shoulders with Jensen as he walked past.

Jensen scratched the top of his head and looked down at his shoe, “Ehm, there’s something I need to tell you-, talk to you about. If you’re not busy, man, we could do this tomorrow, no big deal,” he laughed awkwardly and mentally threw curses at himself for being so weird about it. If Misha was here, he would’ve fixed him with a stern look and threatened to throw it out there himself. That was part of the reason he wanted to have this conversation with Jared alone.

Jared’s half-smile got replaced with a worried frown, “You okay? You look a little flustered,” he put a hand on Jensen’s shoulder before fishing the keys out of his pocket so he could open his trailer door.

“You know Misha, right?” _Dammit, Jensen!_

His sasquatch of a friend stopped short half-way up the stairs and turned to look at Jensen, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Jensen just nodded and steeled himself, “Well, I’m kinda … we’re sorta dating.”

Silence.

Jensen uncomfortably shifted his stance and looked expectantly at his best friend. “Are-, are you going to say anything?” he tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a choked sob.

“You and Misha are dating?” Jared asked, or stated, and took the couple of steps back down so he was standing on the ground next to Jensen.

“Yes.”

A grin broke out on Jared’s face and he gave Jensen a brotherly clap on the shoulder, “I’m so happy for you two!” Before Jensen could even release the lungful of air he’d been holding in, Jared enveloped him in his long-ass arms and hugged the life out of him.

“Thanks, Jay,” Jensen answered and felt his body tremble with happiness and gratefulness.

“How long?” Jared asked when he’d pulled back and they stood with an appropriate amount of space between them.

“Three weeks.”

He smiled, “I’m glad, man. But seriously though, to be honest, I’ve also known for about three weeks.”

Jensen felt his eyes widen and his jaw go slack, “Wha-,”

“You two weren’t being as subtle about it as you thought you were,” Jared laughed and palmed Jensen’s shoulder again. “Anyway, good night, buddy. See ya tomorrow.” Then he smiled again, that genuine smile that made him look like a little child, and walked back up the tiny staircase and into his trailer. “Say hi to Misha for me!” he called just before the door closed entirely.

Jensen stood there for a long time just trying to get his mind up to speed with what had actually occurred. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered to himself when the cold started to seep through his clothing and decided it was time to get out of there. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he scoffed and walked back towards his own trailer where Misha was waiting for him.


	8. jared thinks about jensen and misha's relationship

Jared can’t say for certain the first time he noticed it, or when the dynamic that Jensen and Misha had had between them suddenly changed, but he was almost positive it was when everyone got back together for season 6.

Or maybe it was as early as season 5 and all that angels, demons and archangels kind of stuff. Nah. Or … no. Jared knew it had to be that day Misha showed up wearing that dirty trench coat again and Jensen had looked at him like he’d never really noticed him before, you know? Like he’d never really seen him, but then all of a sudden Misha walks in with his crazy hair and blue eyes. Jared knew Jensen was done and done the very second he turned to look at their trench coated friend.

Yes, he’s pretty sure that’s when it began, that the Greatest Love Story Ever Told traveled through the epic world in the scripts and screens until it reached the actors. Or some of that romantic bull-crap, Jared didn’t really give a damn. All he knew was that the moment Jensen saw Misha grinning from ear to ear, shoving his hands back down the trench’s pockets; that was the moment Jensen started falling in love. Jared was sure of it.

He can still see his friend’s face, remember that joyous smile that graced Jensen’s lips, as if it had finally got to him that they’d be acting together again after the hiatus, and that brief flash of disbelief crossing his face for not having seen Misha in that light sooner.

It changed gradually, but not slow enough that it passed completely by Jared’s head. Nothing really went by Jared in the first place, but he’d be damned straight to the deepest pits of Hell if this did.

He remember that first time he saw Misha looking at Jensen when he thought no one saw. Jared did.

That one time they hugged and it lingered just a tad longer than socially acceptable and necessary, they thought no one noticed – Jared did.

Their first kiss was a rather mediocre if he could say such a thing; the three of them had just gotten ten minutes off while the writers discussed something and, naturally, they’d gone directly towards the craft service table. There was these Panini’s that Jared was _dying_ to try ever since Tara had mentioned them and … not relevant to the story at all.

Jared had been sitting there enjoying his Panini’s and chocolate cupcake when the air around him suddenly changed. He’d looked up and noticed Jensen and Misha engaged in a rather boring-looking stare-contest, which wasn’t so weird in itself – they did that almost as often as their characters. It was a _little_ weird though, since they were sitting on the same side of the table.

If he recalls correctly, he had excused himself saying those Panini’s were too tasty for their own good and gotten the hell out of there before … something happened. When he’d looked back from his plate, filled with a couple of perfectly baked chocolate brownie-cupcakes and another one of those delicious Panini’s, a piece of said cupcake may or may not have fallen out of his mouth at the sight of his two best friend’s kissing.

So Jared had seen Jensen fall in love, he’d seen Misha do the same, their first awkward hug in which they both wanted more, but were unwilling to make the first move. He’d witnessed their first kiss, along with about ten other people, and unfortunately for his poor, poor eyes walked in on their first make-out session.

He’s pretty happy that he didn’t, by some freaky way, witness their first hop in the sack as well. That … would’ve been very uncomfortable of all of them. Jared shivered at the thought. Ugh. No.

One conversation that never failed to put a smile on his face, though, was when Jensen told him that he and Misha were dating. Apparently, neither of them had noticed their tall-ass friend – their words, not his - standing in the background, looking at them, through every single situation that led them here.

Not once. Not even when Jared rounded the corner of Jensen’s trailer and saw his friends sharing saliva, pretty inconspicuous, too, he must say. But no, not once. Jared figured it was because they were staring at each other so much that he just sort of … faded into the background along with trees and clouds and everything else deemed unimportant right there and then.

So, yeah, no surprise when Jensen awkwardly stuttered out the true nature of his and Misha’s relationship. Man, that conversation was awesome. At least from Jared’s point of view.

He’d made sure to give them both a clap on the back and a meaningful look the next day before saying, “No funny business between the takes, now!” and walked off with a grin on his face from seeing Jensen’s eyes widening and Misha swatting at Jensen’s arm, asking how much _classified info_ he’d shared with Jared the night before.

When they eventually got married it was no surprise that Jared was Jensen’s best man. It was a wonderful ceremony in the backyard of Jensen’s childhood home back in Texas, surrounded by friends and family, the Texan air and blossoming trees.

Jensen had cried, Misha’d cried. Damn, the whole damn state shed more than a few tears that day, he was sure of it – including himself, who may or may not have been weeping like a child going to Disneyland.

Son of a bitch. Tearing up a little just thinking about it.

Anyway, on another note, ever since Jared was a kid he’d always gotten this feeling when he saw someone in love be together and just know it when some of them would stick together ‘til the very end. Nothing made him happier than that feeling making itself known every time he saw Misha and Jensen together – holding hands, sitting beside each other on the couch, feeding the other food from their plates.

 “Yo, Jay!” Jensen called from the couch where he was sitting, arm slung over the back of it so his hand was resting on Misha’s shoulder. “You comin’ or what?”

Jared had to take a few moments to will the unshed tears – of damn, pure happiness – back into his tear canals before joining them on the couch. “Yeah, dude. So what movie are we watchin’ tonight?” he walked back in with the three cans of beer he’d been ordered to find and plumped down next to Misha.

Jensen frowned and turned the DVD-cover over in his hands, “This, um, _The Avengers_ -thingy,” he said and held it up so Jared could see. Misha was nodding approvingly next to him and Jared got the feeling _he_ was the brains behind the movie-choice tonight.

“Sounds awesome, man, just don’t press play until Gen’s back, huh?” he smiled back when both Jensen and Misha grinned, muttering an _of course we’ll wait, dude._

“Alrighty,” Jensen murmured and put the disc in before sitting back down, leaning well into his husband’s side, Misha automatically lifting his arm so they’d fit better. Jared felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips again and was relieved when Genevieve walked back into the room before either of them could see how much of a sentimental dweeb he really was, covering it up as a _I’m so happy my beautiful wife’s back in the room_.


	9. their first kiss

Their first kiss. Aw, man, Jensen remembers that one. Can still reach out and touch the feeling that consumed him and left him rattling to his bones if he wants to. He does that sometimes, too, when he’s alone and misses Misha. Or when they’ve kissed each other ‘good night’ and settle down to sleep.

Those are some of the moments Jensen likes to be quiet for a while and just remember. Sometimes he wonders if Misha does, too, but figures he has to whenever he smiles and thinks no one’s watching. When Jensen has just pressed a brief kiss to his lips, like a gesture meaning, ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m so glad you’re here with me right now’.

He wants to ask, to hear his better half’s thought on that particular move that changed their lives forever, but he knows he doesn’t have to. Especially when Misha sneaks up behind him and loops his arms around his waist, or when he’s just staring for a while before suddenly leaning forward to peck Jensen on the lips.

Because of those things, and those small, genuine smiles that tugs at Misha’s lips afterwards. That’s the things that tells Jensen everything he needs to know.

-

_Two years ago_

“Ah. Ooh. _Mmmh_. So good.”

“Jared, if you don’t stop that right now, they’ll never find your body,” Jensen broke away from Misha’s gaze and scolded his friend, he decided to smack him over the head as well just to prove his point.

“Hey, what was that for?” Jared frowned and rubbed at his head, accidentally messing up his hair which the poor make-up girls had spent hours (not really) to tame before they started shooting.

Jensen gave him a flat look, “Are you serious? You’ve been having … I don’t know, friggin’ _sex_ with that panana-thing of yours since we sat down!”

“Panini’s,” Jared corrected before suddenly realizing what he’d really been accused of. “I don’t have-,”

“You do, Jared, and it’s disturbing,” Misha shot in from where he was sitting beside Jensen, eating his own lunch which consisted of a piece of awesome stake and mushrooms and _not_ that Panini-stuff Jared seemed so fond of. _Overly_ fond if you ask him.

Jensen laughed and nudged Misha with his elbow. Misha looked away from Jared and sent him a smile.

Jared blinked and looked between the two, “You know what, I’m-uh, I’m gonna get me another one of these,” he said and held up his half-eaten Panini and promptly left the table, not waiting for either of them to give him a response.

“I don’t know what’s up with that guy. Him and food, I mean, _gosh_ ,” Jensen shook his head and couldn’t help but laugh. Misha seemed to share the sentiment, because he broke out a grin of his own.

“How the hell have you survived working with him all these years?” Misha asked and turned his body a little more to the side so he could face Jensen better. He brought his leg up on the bench and put his knee on top of his foot before scooting closer.

Jensen shrugged, “I don’t know, dude. I’m just glad you’re here now so I don’t have to suffer alone.” It was meant to be a joke, but they both knew it wasn’t.

Misha just stared at him for a moment before he answered, “I’m happy to be here, too.”

Then there was like this thing – the Universe, if you like - sort of grabbed their souls and pulled them towards each other. Or something of that sort, that’s the how Misha likes to tell the story. Anyway, they kept slowly gravitating towards each other until there was nothing left but air, until that vanished as well when their lips finally touched.

Call it mediocre, boring or uneventful even. It might have been unspectacular and nothing more than a short, chaste kiss, but it still changed everything.

“Oh,” Misha whispered when they pulled apart, but still close enough to feel each other’s breathes.

Jensen had to swallow a couple of times and reboot his whole system before he could even begin to form out an answer, much less a coherent thought. “What?”

Misha smiled, “Nothing, I just,” he sighed, the smile never leaving his face. “I’d like to do that again.”

Jensen just stared dumbly at the man in front of him. In the end, the best answer, he thought, would be in action, not words. So he leaned forward and kissed him again. “Me too.”

Neither of them noticed Jared in the background, staring wide-eyed at them with his mouth hanging open before it changed into a grin. After all, he was the one who’d been waiting for this moment since Castiel had gripped Dean tight and raised him from Perdition. Ok, maybe not that early, but yeah, totally.

-

_Present_

“What are you smiling about?” Misha asked as he strolled into the living room from their kitchen.

“Huh? Oh, I just thought of something.”

“What?” Misha prompted and sat down beside Jensen. Giving him a nudge in the ribs when he used too long to answer.

“Our first kiss,” Jensen mumbled and felt himself getting warm in the face. For Christ’s sake, he was a grown man! Grown men don’t blush.

Misha snorted and leaned back against the couch, folding his hands in his lap, “Oh that.”

“What about it?” Jensen asked, feeling like there was something Misha wasn’t telling him, something he ought to know.

“That was the lamest first kiss ever, dude. There weren’t even any fireworks!”

Jensen tried to give him a matt look, but ended up fighting a smile instead. “Sometimes people don’t need fireworks.”

“How does that make sense, Jen?”

“Metaphorical fireworks. They’re just as cool.”

Misha frowned at him and looked to be struggling a bit to come up with a response to that. “Metaph-,”

“There were sparkles and shooting stars in my _heart_ ,” Jensen interrupted and palmed his chest, “I mean, so beautiful, like when Castiel first met Dean.”

“God, you’re such a sap, even _I_ am surprised.”

“You love me.”

A sigh, “I do.”


	10. the proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt fill by the lovely luvemishacollins.tumblr.com who requested:
> 
> "misha thinks about engagement and jensen do the same"

He’d been thinking about it for a long time, but still hadn’t had the guts to just ask. For months he had been driving himself nuts over it. Even called Jensen’s parents and asked for permission. He still felt a little stupid and got embarrassed whenever he thought about the conversation he’d had with ‘Papa Ackles’, but proposing to someone is pretty important so he felt he had no other choice but to do it the right way.

Which involved asking Jensen’s father for his son’s hand in marriage.

There was even a ring. A silver one; simple and beautiful, no sumptuous crap like diamonds and that sort of thing. Just a plain silver band with an engraving on the inside. It had been wearing a hole in Misha’s jacket pocket for weeks now. For _weeks_ he’d carried it with him in hopes of that day maybe being the day he finally pulled his thumb out of his ass and just _asked._

Misha hadn’t told anybody – unless Jared counts as a somebody. And Jensen’s parents of course. Misha hadn’t planned on telling him, yet. Wait till they were both wearing rings, he guessed. It was an accident when the giant found out – Misha had been sitting alone in his trailer with the small box open in his hands, casting nervous glances down at it and trying to man up enough to pop the question.

To say Jared was surprised would be the same as saying that it’s kind of painful to get set on fire. After the initial shock wore off, though, he’d been all for it and hadn’t stopped nagging and encouraging him to _just do it already!_ It was a miracle Jensen hadn’t called either of them out on this sort of weird ushering and bantering thing that had been going on between them, yet.

As for right now, Misha was trying his best not to bite his fingers to the bone as he was sitting in their living room next to Jensen. There was some kind of football-game on TV, but Misha had never been a big sports fan so he wasn’t really paying attention.

If it weren’t for the occasional ‘yes!’ and ‘darn!’ from Jensen, he wouldn’t even know they _had_ a TV right now.

Trying to read through the third chapter of this random book he’d found, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the feeling of sitting on an egg. A very large, very annoying ostrich egg. _Why the fuck were these things so hard to do?!_

The small box was in his back pocket and he felt like it was in the process of slowly burning its way through the denim. He reckoned that if he were to get up, the weight of it would instantly pull him right back down again. He heaved a sigh and cleared his throat. Those things are supposed to help against hyperventilating, but it seemed Misha was allergic to … calm, right now.

He always carried it with him, even if he never found the courage to stick his hand down and bring it back up.

“Will you stop squirming?” Jensen suddenly asked, making Misha startle and nearly kick down one of the wine glasses on the table. They didn’t usually drink, much less wine, but for some reason, Misha had broken out that _Italian Barolo_ or whatever the fuck it was called again. It was good, that’s kind of all that mattered.

“What?”                                                                                                                                                         

“Are you ok?” Jensen prompted and sat up so he could face Misha better.

Misha immediately missed the heat from Jensen against his side. Seriously, the guy’s like a furnace. In the end he just blinked and rubbed uncomfortably at the back of his neck, “I’m fine.” He smiled and patted the tiny flick of space that opened up between them when Jensen moved, trying to get his hot-water bottle back. “Really, I’m fine,” he repeated when he caught Jensen’s flat look.

Jensen didn’t sit back down. Instead he muted the TV and fixed Misha with a stern look and a raised eyebrow, “Oh, really?”

Misha pursed his lips and nodded, “Yep.” Even to himself it sounded feigned and weak.

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Weirder than usual?”

Jensen was going for unimpressed, but didn’t quite manage to hold off a smile, “Yes. Is something wrong? You can tell me, man.” And right back to worried. Misha hated making Jensen worried.

Great, and now he felt guilty too, although he had no recollection of any strange behavior happening around him. He didn’t know what to think or do next, before Jensen suddenly lent forward and put a hand on his cheek.

“Dude.”

Misha sighed and figured this moment was as good as any and twisted his torso so he could reach his back pocket. He was still scared out of his wits, though. There were always thoughts like _will Jensen say no?_

He fished the box out of the pocket and fisted it in his hands, holding it so tightly that his knuckles turned white and the corners dug into his palms. He spent a good ten seconds just staring at it before he dared to look back at Jensen’s face.

“What’s that?” Jensen asked and leaned in to look, but Misha pulled it away and held it to his chest like he was holding an injured baby bird and not a tiny wooden box.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Misha said and was surprised when he found himself whispering. He let out a short laugh and slowly inched it down to his stomach, still doing a pretty good job of covering it up so Jensen wouldn’t see.

“Thinking about what?” Jensen sort-of-whispered back and moved closer, one hand hovering over Misha’s for a second before he pulled it back again.

“It’s kinda big,” Misha elaborated and had to clear his throat again. His voice sounded more certain and stronger now.

Jensen raised an eyebrow and smiled, albeit unsurely, “Big, how?”

He laughed and stroked one finger down the side of the small box. “Big like ‘I had to call your parents’-big.” Ok, it wasn’t like he _had_ to as much as he _wanted_ to. Misha heard Jensen’s breath catch in his throat, but he still couldn’t get himself to look at him.

“…What?” Jensen managed to stutter out and stared at Misha wide eyed.

Misha finally looked up and met his boyfriend’s eyes and instead of answering, he removed his hands from the box. He held his breath as he watched Jensen’s eyes land on it before shooting back up to lock his gaze with Misha’s.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Misha smiled weakly and tried to blink the sudden wetness in his eyes away. Damn it if he was going to cry.

“I can’t believe it,” Jensen mumbled to himself and stared at it for so long that it was getting Misha uncomfortable. Then, he just suddenly rose from the couch and walked out of the room.

Misha didn’t have time to let the disappointment settle in his chest before Jensen strolled back in and sat down again.

“What-,”

“You see, I’ve been planning something like this, too,” Jensen said, voice trembling a little, and huffed before pulling his hand out and opened it so Misha could see. In the palm of his hand was a golden ring. A perfect, plain golden ring, the counterpart to the one Misha had.

“Oh-, holy cow,” Misha mumbled, fisting his hair and trying very hard not to jump out of the couch and proceed to dance around on the floor in these sort of jerky motions that made him look like a special person.

After a beat he managed to get his shaking hands to pull out the ring he’d bought.

“It’s beautiful,” Jensen whispered with awe in his voice when he saw it and Misha felt pride swelling in his chest. The prickling behind his eyes started up again so he quickly wiped at them.

“Is there even a point in asking right now?” Misha asked and tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a sob and he rubbed at his cheeks.

Jensen snorted and grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “Kinda ruins the point of asking when you already know the answer,” he said and ushered Misha to give him his hand by making these weird, jerky hurry-up-and-give-me-your-hand gestures.

Misha rolled his eyes, but complied and found himself holding his breath when Jensen slid the band onto his finger. It fit perfectly, so damn perfect that he nearly started crying right there and then. He opened the small box next, a tiny ‘pop’ as it clicked open.

“How long have you been sitting on this baby, Mish?” Jensen asked as he studied his own ring, how the lights in the room reflected on the matt silver. He spun it around his finger a couple more times before meeting Misha’s eyes.

“A while,” was all he got out, even though he knew exactly how many months, weeks and days it had been since the thought first popped into his head.

“Yeah, me too.”

Misha swallowed down a giant lump of I-need-to-cry-right-now and sat up so he could sneak an arm around Jensen’s neck. “I love you,” he mumbled before pressing his lips to Jensen’s in what resulted in a messy, desperate and down-right toe-curling kiss.

“Love you, too,” came Jensen’s response more than a moment later when they finally parted for air. “So fucking much,” he added before pushing Misha back down on the couch so he could kiss the hell out of his fiancée again.


	11. misha's first day

Jensen doesn’t know what he’s more distracted by; Misha’s eyes that’s bluer than the ocean and the sky put together, his wild hair or the _voice_.

He wasn’t talking like that when they’d introduced each other 5 minutes ago, but there it was, that deep-ass, growly voice that made Jensen do a double-take and wonder what the fuck was going on.

It caught him so completely off-guard that he messed up his lines and had to ask if they could go again because _sorry, guys, my head’s a little slow today._ He takes a couple of deep breaths through his nose, ignores Jim Beaver’s smirk and run the simple sentence _who are you?_ through his head one more time.

Director yells ‘marks’, Jensen and Jim hurriedly walks over and morphs into their characters, barn doors burst open and in walks the disheveled angel-guy that pulled Dean’s ass outta Hell. Jensen has to blink a couple of times and just go _WOW_ inside his head because, come on, hot guy walks in through a rain of sparks and gunshots, totally unfazed. Jensen’s pretty sure he doesn’t swing that way, but Misha’s friggin’ sexy right now, ok?

He nearly misses his cue to jam Ruby’s knife into the guy’s chest because he’s too busy admiring the scene playing out in front of him.

They get the scene done with no further complications or set-backs and Jensen takes a few minutes to talk to Misha before he goes to get lunch with Jared. He’s curious about the guy and if they’re going to be working together for a while, he might as well get to know him.

“Hey, Misha?” he says, approaching him, and reaches out to touch his shoulder just to get the guy’s attention since he seems a bit distracted by something.

Misha turns around with raised eyebrows and a kind smile, “Yep.”

Jensen waits a beat just to see if he’s going to say anything else, but clears his throat and smiles back when it’s obvious that he isn’t. “Um, so, where’re you from?” bad conversation starter and he knows it.

There’s this look in Misha’s eyes saying he knew Jensen just asked that because he didn’t know what else to say. He decides to just go with it, though, and Jensen’s glad for that.

“Massachusetts,” Misha says and turns around completely, shoving his hands down the pockets of the trench coat. “You’re from Texas, right?” he asks then.

Jensen internally winces and really, really hopes that the two of them can have less awkward conversations in the future. It hadn’t been this weird with Jared, not by a long shot.

“Yeah,” he nods and half laughs, one arm going up to scratch his neck. “How’re you likin’ it so far?” he asks and gestures to … everything around them.

Misha’s face goes serious, but Jensen detects the sarcasm behind it, “Oh yeah. I really like the-, uh, the incantations Jim was doing earlier.”

Jensen can’t help but laugh and sees Misha’s shoulders relaxing a little, “So it’s not scaring you? This whole, sigils and monsters and demons thing?” he finds himself hoping Misha isn’t because for some reason he’s starting to like this guy.

Misha scoffs and makes a gesture with his hand meaning something like _now why the hell would that scare me?_ “Nah, course not. Why? You mean walking into a barn that has every inch of it covered in sigils and symbols and getting shot in the chest-,”

“And stabbed,” Jensen shoots in.

Misha tips his head gratefully in his direction and lets the smile slide back in place, “And stabbed.”

“With a demon-killing knife.”

Misha smiles wider and laughs at that, a rich, hearty laugh and a smile that scrunches up his nose and wrinkles the corner of his eyes. “Love it. And I got to show off my wings, that’s kind of a plus, right? You’re saying all that stuff isn’t a recurring theme in TV these days?”

“Of course it is,” Jensen agrees, to both the wings and the TV-thing, and feels himself loosen up even more, he’s even smiling now, maybe even just as vigorously as Misha is.

“And the car, of course, is a whole chapter in itself,” Misha says and sits down on one of the tables – they’re still in the barn for some reason, even though they’ve finished all their scenes together for the day. He invites Jensen to do the same and smiles when he does.

“The impala?” Jensen asks just to be sure. Could be one of Clif’s cars Misha was talking about for all he knew.

“Yes, it’s beautiful. Wouldn’t be surprised if I suddenly bought my own one day.”

“Really,” Jensen says and tries, he really does, not to sound overly excited about this. Everyone on set knows about his borderline obsessive love for that car, and he can’t help but like Misha even better right now. The guy just earned himself a golden star in the margin. Possibly three.

Misha picks up on Jensen’s poorly cloaked enthusiasm like a ninja, “Oh, yes.”

He thinks about it for a moment before he digs around in his jacket pocket, gaining Misha’s full attention and curiosity. “Oh, look what I found,” he says with feigned surprise and finds himself relishing in the grin he gets from Misha, holding up the keys to the car. “Wanna go for a ride?”

Misha’s out of his chair and dragging Jensen with him before the last word is out of his mouth. All he can do is smile and think that this went way fucking better than he thought it would, considering how weird it had been between them earlier.

Now he just really wish the writers decide to keep Castiel around so they can get to know each other better.

-

“So, how’s the new guy?” Jared asks as they’re walking towards the crafts table a couple of hours later.

Jensen doesn’t want to say that he took him for a little drive in the Impala and for some reason he doesn’t want to tell his best friend how much he kind of likes the guy already, either.

“I don’t know, man,” he says and thinks back to the first impression he got of him. “He’s … weird.”


	12. jensen doesn't want to get out of bed

Someone’s nudging Jensen’s shoulder, someone who should really, _really_ not do it. Especially when it’s the rare day neither of them have work and you know how Jensen likes spending those days? In bed. For as long as he possibly can, he’ll be lying there under the covers, snuggling up to Misha and his furnace of a body and just _relax_ for once.

But no, not today, it seems. Jensen groans at Misha’s insistent nudging and pricking and occasional tickling, and buries further under the covers.

“Jensen,” Misha whispers around a snigger and scoots closer so he can throw his arm over Jensen’s waist.

The only response he gets is a tired groan.

“Jensen, come on,” he tries again, pressing a kiss to the nape of Jensen’s neck and smiles when he feels Jensen shudder. He wriggles closer and plasters himself to his boyfriend’s back, knowing that the heat will soon make Jensen want to throw the covers off and get out of bed.

Jensen makes an incomprehensible sound and does little else. He’s made his mind up about staying in a prone position for as long as he’ll allow himself and pointedly ignores Misha’s attempts to ‘heat’ him out of the bed. It rarely works in the first place and Jensen’s sure it won’t work today. He can’t hold back the grin and is glad Misha’s at his back so he won’t see it.

He feels Misha sigh, a warm puff of air hitting his neck, and he shivers again.

They lie there for a long time and Jensen’s about to dip off again when he feels Misha squirming at his back.

“It’s morning, Jensen,” Misha huffs, but contradicts himself by tightening his hold around Jensen’s waist.

“What of it,” Jensen slurs and moves his head into a more comfortable position on the pillow. He thinks about it for a moment before moving his hand down to entwine his fingers with Misha’s.

“Are you going to lie here all day?”

“Yep.”

Misha groans, “But I wanna get up.” He sounds like a whiny brat and Jensen can barely stop himself from laughing out loud since that would indicate he’s awake enough to get out of bed with Misha.

Jensen brings the cover closer to his face and snuggles into his fluffy, warm pillow. “So geddup then.”

“Not alone,” Misha says like that’s preposterous, which he probably thinks it is.

“Ain’t ready yet,” Jensen answers and revels in the feeling of just lying there, knowing that he has the entire day and night off before he’s being called back to the set.

“You’re never ready.”

“Nope.”

He feels it the moment Misha gives up and gives himself a mental pat on the back for knowing the guy so well. Misha relaxes and kisses Jensen’s shoulder before dropping his head back onto the pillow. “You should be thankful that I love you so much.”

Jensen finally gives in and laughs, “I am.” He takes Misha’s hand away from where it’s resting against his stomach to press his lips to his fingers before putting it back.

“You’re making me tea,” Misha says in a mock-hard voice. “When we eventually leave this bed, you’re making me tea and French toast.”

“Alright,” Jensen agrees immediately. He’s used to this after all as it always happens every time they have days off together.

“And a massage,” Misha adds after a beat and rubs his nose against the short, soft hairs on Jensen’s neck.

“Pushing it,” he answers, but turns around in his boyfriend’s grip anyway to kiss him, pressing his lips lazily to Misha’s in a pace they both manage to follow despite how tired they are.

He brings his hand up to card his fingers through Misha’s hair and nudges one of his legs between Misha’s. They continue to move their lips and tongues against each other for a few more moments before Jensen feels sleep catching up again.

“Just admit it,” he says around a yawn, eyes closed as he moves closed so he can nudge his nose against Misha’s. “You love being in bed all day as much as I do.”

Misha snorts and kisses Jensen one more time before settling down himself, feeling tired as hell even though he was more than ready to get up mere minutes ago. “Yeah,” he whispers and loops an arm around Jensen’s back, drawing him closer.


	13. the kitten

Jensen had always thought himself to be a dog person. He’d grown up with pugs and he downright loved Jared and Genevieve’s dogs, the mutts seemed to have a thing for ‘uncle Jensen’ and that did nothing but prove Jensen’s point. He’s pretty sure he mentioned it to Misha once or twice that he’d love to get a dog, which is why he’s frozen in place in the doorway that leads into their kitchen.

There’s an animal in Misha’s lap, who’s sitting on the floor grinning like an idiot and although it makes Jensen’s heart do backflips every time he sees that smile, right now he wants to be a little angry. Because it’s not a puppy arching its back up into Misha’s hand - it’s a damn kitten.

He’s stuck by the door for a few more moments, neither Misha nor the cat has noticed him yet, so he inches closer.

“Mish?” he asks when he’s close enough to see the fur ball’s face and he immediately recoils and takes a step back; it’s got one eye and its left ear doesn’t really look like an ear anymore, more like a chew toy, it looks like some other animal has eaten half of it.

Jensen’s heart lurches painfully in his chest at the sight of it.

Misha stops stroking the cat’s back and whips his head around to look at Jensen, that big smile still in place and Jensen can’t be angry anymore. “Yes?”

He decides to take a step closer and crouches down when there’s a foot between them. “Why is there a cat in our apartment?” he smiles uncertainly and keeps his hands in his lap.

“I rescued it from the animal shelter. They’d gotten her a couple of weeks ago and so far no one’s come in to claim her, so they put her up for adoption,” Misha says and looks back at the cat, who’s now curled herself into a ball in his lap, purring loudly every time he cards his fingers through her thick fur.

Jensen finds himself warming up to the idea of having a cat, especially if he gets to see that look on Misha’s face more often. He inches closer, “What happened to it? It’s got one eye.”

Misha shrugs, “They said something about a tumor or something, they removed the bandages a couple of days ago.”

“It’s cute,” Jensen says and brings a hand forward to tentatively give the kitten a stroke along its back. It’s a tricolor, but mostly orange and Jensen’s really okay with that since that particular color reminds him of the fall home in Texas. She’s got a couple black markings, one spot over her removed eye and a smudge on her back, her chest and paws are white.

Misha looks up and meets Jensen’s eyes. “Yeah. She’s been through a lot and when I walked past her cage she looked at me with her big, green eyes and I just couldn’t walk outta there without taking her with me. Sorry I didn’t talk to you about it first.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

The cat purrs louder when Jensen rubs her behind the good ear. He flicks his eyes back to Misha’s and smiles, “I’m strangely okay with this.” He leans forward and presses his lips to his boyfriend and grins into the kiss when Misha startles. “She’s gonna need a name, though.”

“Oh,” Misha says and frowns, it seems like that was the only thing he _hadn’t_ thought about and Jensen can’t help but laugh, there’s several bags and boxes around their kitchen and all of them are full of cat food and toys and other cat-things.

“She kinda reminds me of home,” Jensen mutters and sits all the way down next to Misha and continues to pet the cat. He’s starting to like her even if she’s not the dog he’s been wanting to get for the last couple of years.

Misha hums and Jensen’s a little surprised his boyfriend hasn’t started to throw about crazy name suggestions yet. Maybe he’s waiting for the right one to pop into his head.

“Texas.”

Jensen blinks, “Yes, that’s where I’m from.”

“No, I meant let’s call her Texas,” Misha says exasperatedly and huffs.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Jensen’s got no problem with that, “Okay, then.”

He’s rewarded with his favorite smile from Misha, the one that wrinkles the skin around his eyes and scrunches up his nose. He can’t really be blamed for not being able to keep himself from kissing the holy hell out of his boyfriend right then.

Texas gives a discontent meow as she gets pushed of Misha’s lap in favor of Jensen, but they reckon she won’t hold that grudge against them for very long. They are too busy kissing and groping and grinding to think about that anyway.


	14. jared finds out about the cat

“A cat?”

“Yes,” Jensen exasperatedly responds as he sinks further into his and Misha’s soft couch and palms his face. Their newly acquired kitten is sitting upright in his lap and staring at Jared like he’s something she better watch out for. Jensen doesn’t blame her; he smells like dog.

“A cat,” Jared says again, eyebrows raised and lips pulled into a doubtful quirk. He scoffs and blinks a couple of times, “You got a cat.”

“Yes, Jared, is it so hard for you to understand?”

“ _A cat!”_

Jensen eyes the remote control on the coffee table and takes a few moments to consider his options in shutting his friend up and the outcome if he were to throw it at his head. In the end, he sighs and dismisses the idea of flinging a possibly harmful object at his friend’s head.

“Jared, the cat is sitting in my lap, I fucking know I have a cat so just shut up about it.” The words are harsh, but he says it whilst trying to hold in a snigger, so he knows Jared won’t take offence of his sudden outburst.

“Ok, ok. Well, what’s it called, then?” Jared asks and brushes his wild bangs out of his face. “Is it a he or a she?” he leans forward in his chair across from Jensen as if he wants to take a closer look at it.

Jensen nods to himself; not every day you see a cat with one eye and 1,5 ears.

“ _She_ is called Texas,” he answers and moves one hand over to pet her tiny head, gently scratching her behind the good ear. She arches into his hand and starts purring.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Misha came up with it,” Jensen mumbles back, too absorbed in his kitten’s adorable one-eyed face and the way she seems to be smiling as his rubs a thumb under her chin.

“Wow, you guys are like … I don’t even know,” Jared shakes his head, but he’s grinning while he says it.

“We’re like what?” Jensen decides to ask, even though he has the feeling this conversation is about to get embarrassing and awkward for both of them.

Jared clears his throat and sits back in the chair, tossing his hand through the air as if that gesture tells Jensen everything he needs to know. It doesn’t.

“Hopelessly romantic, that’s the word.”

Jensen groans, “Aw, come on-,”

“No, you are! Y’all don’t even see it and you should _really_ see yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jared seems to be at loss for words for a moment and slings his eyes around the room like he’s looking for something to change the subject. After a beat he deflates and turns back towards Jensen. “This was all Genevieve, ok?”

“ _What_ , Jared,” Jensen asks, but reckons he can’t look very intimidating since he’s currently petting a kitten. To hell with it, he brings up the Dean-eyes and fixes Jared with the Winchester-stare of ‘tell me now goddammit’.

It works. _I’ll be damned._

“It’s true love, man.”

The worst part is that Jared looks 100% serious as he says it and now Jensen doesn’t really know what to do.

He’s about to say something when Jared opens his mouth again, “It was something she said the other day after we’d all gone out to eat at that Italian place last week.”

Jensen nods, he remembers. Good pizza.

“She said that every time you two look at each other, it looks like you’re falling in love all over again,” Jared’s ears are burning red and Jensen knows his own are, too.

He can’t keep the smile off his face for long, though, because when he thinks about it, he knows it’s true. Every time he locks eyes with Misha, this feeling of finding something he’s lost fills him up to the brink. He sees that same look in his boyfriend’s eyes pretty often, too, now that he thinks about it.

This conversation was supposed to be about the cat, how the fuck did they end up talking about this?

Jensen can’t really give a rat’s ass about it anyway; he loves talking about Misha, it has become a bit of a fault, to be honest. He’s recently learned that not everyone wants to hear the entire story behind each and every time Misha proves how awesome of a cook he is.

He gets jerked out of his reverie by Jared clearing his throat, “So how did you get her?” he asks and gestures towards Texas sleeping peacefully in Jensen’s lap.

“Animal shelter,” Jensen says and smiles when her whiskers twitch in her sleep.

“I thought you wanted a dog?”

“Yeah, I thought so, too,” his tone is fond and he just can’t stop grinning. He’s kind of surprised Jared hasn’t called him out on it yet.

They’re both quiet for a minute as they watch her tiny paws and ears jerking as she descends deeper into kitten-dream world.

“Why’d you name it Texas anyhow?”

Jensen snorts, “I said she reminded me of home.” He looks up and immediately regrets answering that question when Jared’s face morphs into a grimace that tells him he thinks all this is so disgustingly lovey-dovey and romantic that he might burst at any second.

“ _Don’t,_ ” Jensen warns and points a finger in Jared’s face.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jared says, but he sounds smug and Jensen hates it.

“I know, shut up.”


	15. where jensen is an angel and misha is a human

“Holy shit!”

The creature in front of him fixes him with a flat look and shakes his head ever so slightly, his enormous honey colored wings fluttering behind him as he moves closer towards Misha with the gracefulness of a king. The kings you see in Disney-films and read about in books.

“Now that ain’t the usual term of greeting now, is it?” the thing asks, a Texan drawl that makes Misha’s skin feel like it’s freezing cold and on fire at the same time.

Misha’s eyes widen and he promptly shakes his head, trying to find some kind of comeback to slap in the thing’s face – he’s known for those after all, but after a while – when the witty remark has yet to surface – he thinks that this might be the first time he’s ever been rendered speechless. He hates it.

The thing is standing in the middle of Misha’s kitchen now, hands behind his back, looking way too comfortable in his own skin and it makes Misha even more annoyed and a bit scared. The wings move softly behind its back, like the way long hair moves under water.

“Guess not,” Misha eventually says and decides that he’s either lost all his marbles, it’s one hell of a dream or this is really happening. He finds himself hoping it’s the latter and walks the rest of the way into the kitchen. Nearly everyone he knows has met or seen an angel before, but not Misha. He’d spent a whole lot of his time being jealous and recently decided that it wouldn’t matter anyway. Then this happens.

The thing gives him a barely-there smile and moves swiftly out of the way when Misha shuffles over to the fridge. “So,” he says and is glad his voice sounds normal. “Who’re you and what are you doing in my kitchen?”

The thing’s feathered wings gives a slight jerk before settling again. Misha’s eyes are drawn to them immediately, unable to remember ever seeing something that beautiful before in his life, making the angel smirk and Misha refuse to meet his eyes. “My name’s Jeniel and I’m here because I want to.”

Misha raises his eyebrows and gives the dude a once-over again, taking in his relaxed stance and kind face – he’s a handsome fucker, that’s for sure. “Jeniel?”

The man nods and moves closer, observing everything around him in the process like he’s never seen stuff like spatulas and sinks and empty coffee mugs before, which is weird since Misha’s pretty sure angels have been around since the dawn of time – or maybe this one’s never been down here before. “Yep.”

“And you’re here because you want to,” Misha states, momentarily unable to see what’s so special about his cramped kitchen when there’s a big, fantastic world just outside his door. Why would an angel favor the flat of a weirdo bookstore owner when there were pyramids and rainforests and northern lights to see?

A nod.

“Right.” He gives the guy a look, gaze lingering on the wings sprouting from the man’s shoulder blades and gestures towards them, about to make a comment about them, but something completely different comes out instead. “Want some coffee?”

Jeniel – _what kinda name is that anyway –_ frowns and blinks, sliding his eyes from his wings before setting them back on Misha, like he knew that was what he had intended to ask about. Then he just … looks around for a second before locking his gaze with Misha’s again, a tiny smile gracing his lips. “Yes, thank you, I think I’d like some coffee.”

“Really?” out of all the angel-meetings and angel-related stuff he’d read about and been told, not once had there been anything about an angel accepting any kind of food or drink. Ever. Maybe the other ones were stuck-up pricks - Misha was glad a nice one decided to grant him a visit.

 “Ya look surprised,” the angel says and leans heavily against the counter, folding his arms over his chest and crosses one leg over the other. If Misha wasn’t absolutely bonkers right now – which he probably is - he’d want to get used to that image. As of right now, _this was all too weird – there is goddamn angel in his kitchen._

It takes him a few seconds to even process what the angel has said to him, “An astute observation, I must say,” he deadpans and crosses his own arms, giving the angel a half-assed glare just because.

Jeniel gives him a look that says he doesn’t quite understand why they’re talking about this in the first place. Misha suppresses his urge to groan and bang his head against the wall, so he goes over to the coffeemaker instead and turns it on.

“You want something to eat?” he finds himself asking even though he knows the angel will decline.

“Oh, if ya don’t mind,” the angel drawls and throws Misha for a loop all over again. He knows that angels don’t even need sustenance, so why the hell was this one accepting it?

Turns out the angel really loves homemade brownies, _really_ loves it. Misha feels nothing but pride at his own handiwork, but then remembers that there’s something not quite right about this picture. “I thought angels didn’t need to eat,” he asks once Jeniel has swallowed down another mouthful of ‘this truly delightful chocolate cake’ and downed half of his glass of milk. “And do you have a nickname, because for some reason it’s weird calling you ‘Jeniel’.”

Jeniel looks up at him and furrows his brows, “Nickname?”

“Yeah, like Jen or-,”

“I like Jen,” the angel interrupts and if Misha isn’t horribly mistaken there’s a pink flush rising in his cheeks.

He smirks, “Alright. Jen.”

The angel smiles and ducks his head down, scratching distractedly at the back of his head. “Um, angels don’t really need to eat, no, but I want to.”

“Why?” Misha asks and it isn’t just about the food, but the whole thing about the angel being there just because he wants to. He hopes Jen gets what he’s implying.

“I don’t know, to be honest. It’s kinda hard to explain, but I like this,” Jen tries to explain, sits back in his chair and gestures to the entirety of Misha’s kitchen.

“’This’ as in ‘humans’?” Misha asks and gets the feeling that this angel right here is a rare one and for some reason he wants to keep him all to himself. _Wow, where did that come from?_

Jen nods, “Humans have always fascinated me, more than the mere interest my brothers and sisters have of you. They don’t appreciate it enough, I think.”

Misha smiles softly back and thinks he understands.

“I’ve been watching you for a while and I gotta say - you’re one _fascinating_ guy, Misha.”

Never once in his life can Misha remember actually blushing, but there was definitely a rosy flush crawling up his neck right now.

“I’ve never really met a human before now. Watching from a distance has always been my thing, observing, taking in as much as possible. Out of everybody I’ve watched, you’re the only one that’s ever stood out,” Jen says like it’s nothing, and it probably is for him.

But to Misha this is a huge fucking deal. All his life, Misha’s gone through the motions and not once can he remember anyone taking any kind of interest in him, least of all something like this. Sure he stood out in a crowd more often than not, but no one had really been _interested_ in him the way Jen seemed to be. It was both scary and exhilarating.

There’s so much he want to say about that, but once again does his tongue betray him. “I’ve never met an angel before. Never seen one either.”

Jen actually looks surprised, or scandalous would’ve been a better word. “What?”

Misha shrugs and takes a tiny bite of his own piece of brownie.

“I would’ve thought they’d see it, too,” the angel mutters to himself and stares off into space like he’s wringing his brain, looking for something.

“See what?” Misha mumbles back, not really sure why he’s asking, just thinking that it would be polite to do so.

“How special you are,” Jen replies.

“Wh-,”

“Your soul, Misha. It’s the brightest soul I’ve ever seen, so full of life and colors, curling and twisting under your skin like a child that can barely contain its own energy.”

“Are-,”

“Oh, you should really see the colors – they go from a golden red when you’re content and relaxed, to a sharp blue-green when you’re stressed.”

Jen continues to ramble on about colors and textures and light and warmth, but Misha’s still kind of shell shocked by the fact that there is an actual angel sitting at his kitchen table, eating brownies, drinking milk, wings fluttering excitedly as he talks about _Misha’s goddamn soul._

It’s too much. “Wait, wait, wait, shut the fuck up for one second there, Iron Eagle,” he interrupts and holds up a hand, staring straight into the angel’s eyes.

Jen gives him an unimpressed look, “You don’t have to be mean.”

Misha deflates and rubs a hand over his face, “What?”

“Your language is offensive,” Jen elaborates and is about to say something else, but Misha doesn’t let him.

“Why are you talking about my-my soul, Jen?” he tries to reign in his blush and clears his throat.

“It’s beautiful. The most beautifu-,” he stops short when he hears Misha’s loud groan.

“Dude, no. Just no.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this, ok? Can we let it go?”

Jen clamps his mouth shut and breathes through his nose in frustration. In the end he nods, though, and agrees to let the subject drop for the time being.

The kitchen gets quiet after that. A sort of silence that’s as loud as a gunshot and so silent that you think you’ve gone deaf all at once. Misha’s uncomfortable, but Jen doesn’t look affected by it at all. Stupid angel.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Jen asks after a while, his voice soft and pleasant and Misha can’t stay mad anymore.

“Sure,” he says and hopes it got nothing to do with souls. Especially the soul belonging to the only human at this table.

“Can I kiss you?” the angel says, sitting back in his chair looking as snug as always with his shoulders relaxed, sporting that half-smile of his that does … _things_ to Misha.

He’s barely able to swallow down the mouthful of milk instead of spraying it all over the angel’s face – not that he wouldn’t deserve it – and coughs violently when some of it ends up in the wrong pipe.

“What?” he sputters once his throat feels somewhat normal again and can’t help but lean closer the winged bastard sitting opposite of him. Not that he would have any objections to Jen’s question, just – where the hell did that come from? Did angels kiss the humans they visited now, too?

“I’d like to kiss you,” Jen repeats slowly and gives him a worried look, eying the glass of milk before casting his eyes back to Misha.

Misha thinks about it for a moment before he nods and smirks, needing to feel like he’s the one in control here, the one calling the shots. He knows Jen’s seeing right through it and he’s glad when the angel pretends not to notice.

He rises from his stool, feeling a strange kind of nervousness pulse through him when the angel immediately mirrors his actions, and takes a step closer to him. There’s a couple of seconds where none of them move until Misha palms the side of the angel’s neck and leans in.

Well, Jen’s never kissed anyone before, that’s for sure, but Misha doesn’t have any problem at all teaching the guy how to do it. He presses his lips to the angel in an almost chaste kiss, keeping their mouths together for a beat before he starts moving them.

The angel is quick to grab the ropes and starts to imitate Misha’s movements, slowly opening his moth to slot their lips more comfortably together.

When Misha decides to take a chance and sneaks his tongue out to lick against the seam of the angel’s lips, Jen immediately does the same, trailing the tip under Misha’s upper lip, over his teeth before finally making it slide along Misha’s own.

It’s way more passionate and deep and _dirtier_ than he thought a kiss with an angel would be, but when he hears Jen groan and feels his fists grab his hips, pushing their groins together, he realizes that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. He smirks - he’s got no problem with that


	16. possessive!misha and oblivious!jensen with a bit of smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was my first attempt at writing sex, so you'll just have to excuse me

When Misha Collins was younger people remembered him as the kid next door who hated sharing his toys, but would lend you his favorite if you asked nice enough. Sharing what was his just wasn’t something he liked to do, he hated it.

Sometimes, when he thinks back on one of those episodes, he can recall feeling that burning anger in his stomach he always got when someone was playing around with his things. Didn’t matter if it was his favorite or one of those he never played with. It’s just that it was _his_ ; he should be the only one who could touch it.

The thing about Misha is that his possessiveness isn’t necessarily limited to small objects such as toys, gadgets, books and such. It was before, when he didn’t really have anyone - a person - to be that way over, but now he had and so he did.

Feeling that way over someone doesn’t feel weird to him, not even when the person in question doesn’t even know about it. To Misha, it’s as natural as the law of gravity because he knows that this person will sooner or later realize that Misha is _his_ , too.

Sometimes it annoys the hell out of him, though, that Jensen is just that clueless, so oblivious to the way Misha feels about him. A hard wall seems like the perfect place to knock his head into those times, but he keeps from doing it and just decides to show his claim on the man a little clearer.

-

In the beginning no one noticed, but then again he did it extremely subtly. It started when they were filming season 5 and although he can’t remember an exact date or period, it had been whilst filming an episode with Sebastian Roche.

Everybody knows Sebastian is a guy with long fingers and a need to touch everything he comes across, be it people or inanimate objects. It doesn’t even have to be in a sexual or romantic way, it’s just that he likes to put his hands on fucking _everything_.

Misha liked Sebastian a lot, but when his hands lingered longer than normal on Jensen’s shoulder or he stood too close, Misha would always find a way to stop it. At the time, he would just call Jensen over, saying he had something awesome to show him.

After that, Misha always stayed close, positioned himself between Jensen and Sebastian if the latter suddenly showed up. It didn’t stop there, though. When lunch break eventually came, Misha was the one who dragged Jensen along to the crafts table and decided where they should sit and eat.

If some new guest actors came on the show, he would stand shoulder to shoulder with Jensen, sometimes with a hand on his lower back just to show them that Jensen was off limits. Be it directors, writers, make-up girls or PAs, Misha would always find an excuse to hover over Jensen and touch him.

Jared didn’t count as one of those. Jensen and Jared were like brothers in every way imaginable, plus he had Genevieve, so Misha was glad he didn’t have to act that way when Jared was around. That would’ve been exhausting considering Jared was with Jensen as much as Misha was.

-

His possessive behavior towards his younger co-star didn’t stay at the _Supernatural_ set. No, he had to really bring his a-game when they went to conventions, but at the same time he had to do it subtly enough to not cause suspicion.

It was small things like making sure he put his chair as close to Jensen as socially acceptable during their panel, placed his body between Jensen and another if someone decided to crash it. He touched him as often as he dared, every hand he put on Jensen’s arm or shoulder lingered.

Sometimes when Misha felt extra bold, he would sneak in a hug or even a smack on the ass, the latter disguised as a joke for the fangirls. A kiss on Jensen’s neck worked, too. He remembered one time he did - the wonderful, warm feeling that spread inside him when he heard Jensen’s slight stutter as he tried to compose himself again and answer the interviewer’s question.

Back to the present, it was the Jus in Bello convention in Rome early 2011 when someone finally figured him out. It was the same day that he had pulled the ‘angel standing behind me’ thing on Jensen, and who the fuck other than Jared was it that eventually figured Misha out. He should’ve seen it, that Jensen’s on-screen brother would be the one to notice first. Before Jensen did, mind you.

Man, Jensen could really be the densest person on the planet sometimes. He was extremely intelligent and bright, but when it came to this he was like a deaf-blind, ignorant child. It was frustrating.

When Jared decided to breach the topic with Misha, they were a gang of seven people in one of the larger hotel rooms. Misha had made sure to keep himself close to Jensen, but only close enough so that their shoulders brushed against each other when one of them moved.

He sat in the middle of Jensen and Jared on the couch, facing Richard, Sebastian, Matt and Rob Benedict. Mark, Jason, Steve and Chad had decided to take a stroll into town and try to find a decent bar.

They had been chatting about what they had seen so far, Sebastian bragging about having been in Rome before, Rob going on and on about the Colosseum while Richard just sat there and sniggered whenever something funny happened.

Misha, who was talking quietly to Jensen about something unimportant, suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see who it was, staring straight into Jared’s hazel eyes. “Hey, Misha, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure.” Misha didn’t move, not keen on letting Jensen sit there alone.

Jared half laughed, “Yeah, not here. Can we just go outside real quick?”

Misha’s eyes automatically shot back to Jensen, seeing the younger man in what looked like a very interesting conversation with Richard. He knew it was incredibly primal of him, but he wanted so badly to take Jensen away from there and-

“Misha?” Jared asked again and nudged him with his elbow.

“Yep, coming,” he said instead, casting one last glance towards Jensen and the empty seat next to him before he walked out of the door with Jared. The cushion that still had the imprint of his butt on it practically screamed ‘sit on me!’ If it didn’t to any of the others, it certainly did to Misha.

They stepped out into the hallway, the floor soft beneath their feet. It was covered in a royal blue carpet which Misha thought to be rather distasteful with its orange and red patterns.

“Misha, do, uh,” Jared stuttered and looked down at the ugly carpet, wringing his hands in and out of his jeans pockets.

Misha didn’t say anything, just tried to ignore the itch in his bones that told him to go running back to Jensen.

“Do you have feelings for Jensen?”

“What?” going for clueless was Jensen’s thing, but Misha figured he could at least give it a shot, fixing Jared with a confused stare that wasn’t so unlike Castiel’s.

Jared gave him a flat look. “Misha, don’t act like nothing’s going on between you and Jensen. I’m not blind, dude.”

 _Perks of being eight feet tall,_ Misha thought to himself, _he’s like a living watch tower._ “What do _you_ think?” He asked, not wanting to admit it, but knowing it was obvious to Jared that he did anyway.

“I think you do.”

Misha managed a very vague nod and looked down at the floor, following one crooked, orange line from his shoe to Jared’s.

“Are you going to tell him?” Jared asked with a voice that was much softer than usual, like he was talking to a little kid experiencing his first crush.

“I guess I will have to, he doesn’t seem to know,” he replied and looked up at Jared again, frowning slightly.

“Yeah.” Jared shifted on his feet again, “I think I’m the only one who knows so far, maybe you need to step it up a bit?”

Was he getting Jared’s blessing? Was that what this was about? He guessed he should be happy about it, so he smiled. Thinking about this right now was no good, distracted as he was, so he opted to mull it over tonight when he’d gone to bed.

“It appears so. Do you think-,” Misha started, but got interrupted by Jared,

“I’m not sure, man, sorry.”

He was just about to open the door back up when he got what would either be the best or the worst idea ever. “Hey, Jared?”

Jared stopped short, “Yeah?” There had to be something with the cunning smile on Misha’s face, because the taller man looked a bit uncomfortable.

-

The plan might not have been the smartest one ever, but Misha hoped it would get Jensen to do _something_. Misha was sick and tired of sending discreet hints all the time, so he’s happy Jared went along with the plan, both hoping they wouldn’t have to keep it up for too long.

The original plan was for Jared to do whatever Misha had been doing for the last two years; being possessive over Jensen. Jared on the other hand, thought some slight modifications would get the point across much faster.

Jared’s plan was basically Misha stepping his possessiveness down to a zero and for Jared to start acting like a possessive jerk around Misha. Jared didn’t really want to do it considering he had a beautiful wife at home, but this had to be done.

Misha agreed, but only because Jared seemed so sure of the new plan. Together, they walked back in, Jared making sure that Jensen could see that one of his hands rested on Misha’s lower back. They sat back down on the couch, but this time Jared placed himself in the middle.

Misha didn’t glance in Jensen’s direction, order from the Padalecki himself, but noticed his confused body language and frown from his periphery vision. Jensen looked at Misha for a couple of seconds, then Jared, before sitting back and resumed his conversation with Rob and Richard.

Jared had sat down much closer than Misha thought comfortable, but he acted like nothing. “You sure this will work?”

“Of course, he’s already starting to wonder what’s up,” Jared whispered back before he started talking to Sebastian, who had just been rock climbing somewhere; Misha didn’t care to listen right now.

-

The next day, Jared kept clinging to Misha like a tick, steering him around with an arm over his shoulders or a loose hand on his hip. Misha couldn’t help the guilt that bubbled in his stomach whenever Jensen sent him confused looks that were borderline hurt.

They had just started eating lunch at that fancy hotel the whole gang was staying at, Jared keeping his enormous body between Misha and everybody the whole time which seemed to drive Jensen up the wall.

“Jensen hasn’t spoken to me since yesterday,” Jared murmured, picking at the food on his plate.

Misha shrugged, but could see his point, “Well, it was your idea, genius.” He didn’t like being away from Jensen either; it made him cranky and shifty.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think he would stop talking to me. At least now we know he likes you, too. He hasn’t looked away from you since this morning,” Jared whispered before stabbing a piece of omelet and shoving it into his mouth.

Misha just hummed, taking a sip of the amazing Italian orange juice that he had boasted about to Jensen yesterday. Right now, though, it tasted of hurt feelings and jealousy.

Breakfast eventually ended and Jared was about to steer Misha out of there when Jensen’s voice reached them, “Misha, I need to talk to you.”

Jared sent him a relieved smile and nodded, “Good luck,” then he strolled over to Richard and the others.

“Hello, Jensen,” Misha said and was glad his voice didn’t reveal that his emotions were swirling like a hurricane beneath his skin.

“C’mere,” Jensen commanded, taking Misha by the arm and leading him out of the room. They walked out to the hallway and the same fugly carpet. Misha frowned disapprovingly at it as Jensen took him further away from where there might be people.

He eventually stopped, but didn’t say anything. “What is it, Jensen?” Misha prompted and reached forward with a hand, grabbing Jensen’s bicep. How easily he fell back into old habits. He noticed how the other man immediately relaxed at being touched, though. Interesting.

Misha took a step closer so their chests were nearly touching, aware of how Jensen’s breath caught in his throat. He was feeling bold so he grabbed Jensen’s hip with his other hand, gripping the flesh hard enough to leave a bruise, but Jensen didn’t seem to mind at all.

There was only air between them now, a very small amount of air that was soon swallowed too as Misha brought his entire body closer to Jensen’s. He rubbed their noses together, “What is it, Jensen?” He all but growled, slipping into his Castiel voice.

“Mish,” Jensen breathed, green eyes staring straight into Misha’s, almost pleading. “Misha, you haven’t touched me at all today.” His voice was just a whisper, sending hot puffs of air to Misha’s lips.

“I’m touching you now. You can touch me back if you want.”

He hadn’t even finished the sentence before he felt Jensen’s warm hands on his back, one of them wandering a bit before ending up on Misha’s neck.

“Jared said you haven’t talked to him today,” Misha mumbled, his lips nearly touching Jensen’s, but he held back. For now.

“Jared isn’t allowed to touch you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine.”

Misha smirked, _finally._ How long had he been waiting for this moment, not once had he thought it would happen in a hotel hallway in Italy.

“Who do you belong to, then?”

Jensen blinked, shifting his gaze from one of Misha’s eyes to the other before he swallowed, “You.”

Despite the fact that they were in a fucking hallway in a hotel where crazy fans and whatnot could come in at any given time, Misha couldn’t keep himself from kissing the hell out of Jensen at that. He practically growled, smashing their lips together in a kiss that were more clashing teeth and dominating tongues than anything.

Jensen whimpered and brought both of his hands up to tangle his fingers in Misha’s hair, moving his lips and tongue against Misha’s the best he could.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Misha cussed when they eventually broke apart needing air, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He’ll be damned if Jensen didn’t fucking moan at that. “Where’s your room?”

It took Jensen a couple of seconds for his brain to register what Misha had said, “Fifty-four,” he croaked out, hands clinging to Misha’s shirt like it was the only thing that kept him from collapsing to the floor in a heap of sweat and tears.

Room number fifty-four was just a couple of doors down so Misha just grabbed Jensen’s hand, vaguely noticing how aroused they both were when he looked down. He smiled; they were going to put that to good use very soon.

***

The hotel room door wasn’t even fully closed behind them - Jensen still clinging to the back of Misha’s shirt like he was afraid that if he let go Misha would float away into space and out of reach – before his mouth was back on Jensen’s.

He feverishly roamed his hands all over Jensen, trying to find something he could tug at that would miraculously make all of his clothes fall right off.  Internally cursing himself for not having any magical abilities, his hands reached the hem of Jensen’s shirt and unable to wait any longer to feel the other’s hot flesh against his own, he ripped if off, not caring that he sent the buttons of Jensen’s new shirt flying in all directions.

Jensen started pawing at Misha’s too, pulling it out of his jeans, but haulted when Misha’s hand shot out stop him. “No.”

He didn’t wait for Jensen to respond before he pushed him backwards in the general direction of the messy bed, making him sit down on it once it hit the back of his knees. Misha then unbuttoned his own shirt, not keen on ruining it. “Get your clothes off, Jen.”

To his saisfaction, Jensen didn’t hesitate at all before he stood back up and fondled with his belt. He made an annoyed sound, like a light growl when the buckle didn’t do exactly what he wanted it to, though it did in the end. Soon he was sitting back on the bed in his boxers, a very obvious bulge in the front of it, already marked with pre cum.

In the meantime, Misha had also stripped all of his clothes off, his underwear too which was somewhere on the floor next to his pants and shirt. He smirked at the sight of Jensen, flushed and sweating, looking like it took all the willpower in the world to keep him from running up to Misha right that moment.

“ _All_ of it, Jensen.”

Jensen cleared his throat and looked like he was about to speak, but thought twice and decided not to. Again, no hesitation as he dragged his boxers down over his leaking cock, a moan escaping those full, red lips as it finally sprung free from its confinement.

Misha took a deep breath and ordered Jensen back onto the bed, giving his own full cock a few strokes before walking over. He briefly wondered if Jensen had done anything like this before, not expecting the sudden wave of jealousy that washed over him at the thought of someone having been inside the other man already. He nearly startled as he realized just how deep the possessiveness of the man in front of him ran, like he felt it in his very blood that Jensen was his and his only.

He decided to ask, “You ever done this before, Jensen?”

“No, never,” Jensen shook his head, voice breaking a little.

Ah, yes. This was all his now, he would do what no other person had done before him, and he’ll be damned straight to hell if someone else was going to be doing it after this. Jensen was _his_ and he would always be.

Misha crawled into the bed, gripping Jensen’s hips so he could drag him into a prone position under him, “Good.” Then they were kissing again, as fierce and passionate as before, tongues briefly fighting for dominance, though Jensen’s gave up after a couple of seconds, knowing full well that Misha was the one in charge here.

Jensen keened and buckled his hips when Misha lowered himself on top of him, placing himself so that their erections moved together perfectly. “ _Fuck_ ,” Jensen moaned and arched his back, threw his head to the side and screwed his eyes shut.

Misha took it like the open invitation that it was and pressed his lips against it, opening his mouth to bite down on the sensitive skin there making Jensen moan again and claw at his back, no doubt creating long, red streaks that would show for days.

“That’s the idea,” he said as he mouthed Jensen’s neck, soothing the skin he’d just bitten with his tongue, nearly hard enough to draw blood. The thought of marking Jensen made him even harder if that was possible and grounded his hips down again, swallowing the noises from Jensen with a hard, open mouthed kiss.

“Yes, yes,” Jensen kept spouting out words and broken sentences, like the part of his brain that kept him from voicing all his thoughts weren’t working anymore.

“Lube,” Misha asked, but made no indication to move, still laying on top of the other man, moving their fiery hot groins together, earning more broken grumbles from the two of them.

“Fuck,” he said again, “My suitcase.”

Misha detached his mouth from Jensen’s neck and stood up, making sure to drag his hand down over Jensen’s sweat soaked chest and abdomen first, purposely avoiding his erection.

The small bottle of lube, clearly new since it hadn’t been opened yet, was relatively easy to find. He picked it up and walked back to the bed, positioning himself between Jensen’s spread thighs and admired the view. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, moving one hand up Jensen’s chest to rub against one of his nipples.

“ _Fuck Christ!”_ Jensen grunted, his hips jerking upwards involuntarily, “Mish. Please.”

“Please, what?” Misha asked, wanting to tease, but finding it hard since he needed something to happen soon just as much as the man underneath him. He opened the bottle of lube and squeezed a good amount of it onto his fingers.

“Please fuck me, Misha!” desperate and needy, Jensen bent his knees and spread his legs, making it pretty clear what he wanted.

Misha groaned and grabbed the base of his cock, afraid he might come at the sight of Jensen so ready and wanting alone. He crawled back up to reconnect their lips, the lube covered hand traveling back down to press against Jensen’s hole, making the man in question jump slightly, but he soon relaxed.

He continued kissing him, swirling their tongues together, sometimes meeting in midair before their lips touched again as he slowly breached him. Misha went slow, perhaps slower than he had the patience to, but he didn’t want to hurt Jensen.

One finger eventually became two, then three as the initial pain wore off and Jensen never stopped moaning and keening like a fucking whore, pressing down on them, bucking his hips, anything to find the friction he so clearly needed.

“Misha, I’m ready, _fuck_ ,” Jensen breathed, stroking his hands up and down Misha’s sides, desperate in every movement he made, “C’mon.”

“Yeah,” Misha said, not keen on waiting any longer either so he carefully slipped his fingers back out and positioned himself, lifting Jensen’s hips, smirking when the other man instinctively wrapped his legs around Misha.

He was about to push inside him when he remembered the lube, the thought of needing a condom never entering his cloud fogged mind. Squeezing a fair amount of it into his hand, he quickly applied it to his weeping cock. A broken sob escaped his lips as he stroked himself, feeling like he might come at any second now, he wasted no time lining himself up again before sheathing himself inside Jensen with one slow thrust.

“ _Oh fuck Satan shit fuckfuckfuck_ ,” Jensen said beneath him and Misha had no doubt he would’ve found the younger man’s choice of words funny if he’d caught them, but right now there was too much wet, tight heat around him so all he heard was unintelligible mumble.

He had no idea why he stopped, but as soon as he was so deep in Jensen that his balls rested against his ass, he must’ve. “ _Move_ goddammit!” Jensen shouted and gripped the flesh on Misha’s sides, writhing and bucking his hips.

And Misha moved, knowing he wouldn’t last long, he drew out so only the head of his penis was still inside before snapping his hips forward again, hitting Jensen’s prostate right on by the looks of it.

“FUCK!” Jensen sobbed and clung harder to Misha, meeting him thrust for thrust, drawing delicious noises out of both of them in the process.

Misha had no doubt they’d both last longer on any other day, but this was years overdue, so Jensen came without being touched, screaming Misha’s name repeatedly, sending Misha with him over the edge just a couple of thrusts later.

“Holy shit,” Misha said, collapsing on top of Jensen’s chest, slipping out of him in the process making Jensen whimper slightly at the loss, “Sorry.”

They were both breathing hard, Jensen already looking like he was falling asleep despite it being just after noon. “That. Was awesome,” Jensen whispered and raised a heavy hand to card through Misha’s wet hair.

“Yes it was,” he answered and craned his neck to look Jensen in the face, pressing a kiss to his lips in the process, “Let’s do that again.”

Jensen laughed, “Yeah, I don’t know about you, but my recovery time isn’t the same as it was when I was seventeen.”

Misha let out a snigger as well, “Let’s just snuggle, then,” and promptly laid his head back on Jensen’s shoulder, feeling all to ready for a nice, long nap.

Jensen’s chest rose as he yawned, “Plane leaves in five hours. We need time to pack, too.”

“Mmm.”

“Mish?”

“Unlike you, I have already packed all my shit,” Misha teased, his head still placed right over Jensen’s still calming heart, his arm clutching Jensen’s body closer to his, like a child would to its favorite teddy bear.

Jensen just swatted at him in answer, reaching down to grab the thin duvet and throwing it over them.

“Just so you know, you’re moving in with me when we get back to Vancouver. If you think we’re gonna have sex in the same house as that giant, you’re very wrong.” There was not a flicker of doubt in his mind that they weren’t together now, not after all this.

“Sure,” Jensen laughed again, his hand still stroking, “I’m all yours now.”

“At last,” Misha whispered and kissed his warm pillow, moving so one of his legs came to lie between Jensen’s.

“And you’re mine,” Jensen whispered back, though not as fiercely as Misha had the tendency to do and felt him smile and tighten his arms around him. Jensen would never tell anybody this, but in contrary to popular belief, he’d known about Misha and his feelings for him for a while.

Misha and Jared might think him a dense idiot in regard to this, but he lived in the hope that Misha would eventually voice his feelings and get to where they were now. Apparently, that hadn’t happened after what Jensen knew had to be Jared’s plan.

He’d have to send his enormous friend a fruit basked once they got home. A small flicker of a smile graced his lips before he fell to sleep with his arms around the man he loved, feeling nothing short of loved in return.


	17. #ilovemishacollins

Misha Collins both hated and loved tumblr. And twitter, sometimes. And some other electronic devices in general, like DVD players, vacuum cleaners and too bright lamps. But this is not the story about that one time he failed to turn on the television; he had pushed the button on the television set in and out more times than he could count, violated the remote control for another five minutes until he – embarrassed as hell – had to ask Jensen to help him. It turned out that the plug wasn’t even _in_ the socket.

Anyhow, not what this story is about. This is the tale of how Misha came to love tumblr, before he hated it and then loved it again. He’d always had it a bit difficult making up his mind sometimes. How he came to love tumblr was easy enough, but he didn’t know what the hell it was until some fan at a convention started talking about it. You can say that that’s when the snowball started rolling, or however the saying goes.

He probably would’ve forgotten all about it by the end of the panel hadn’t it been for the way most of the fans had screamed _NOOOO!_ It made him curious. There had to be some interesting stuff on there, considering how those girls reacted, so that’s ultimately what made him check it out.

At first he _had_ indeed forgotten all about it, which is just how it goes sometimes when the last question he gets is so weird he has to use a larger amount of brainpower to conjure up something witty in response.

It wasn’t until the next day when they were on their way to the airport and Jared started talking about it that he suddenly remembered. They were in one of the cars that drove everybody from A to B, Clif was driving, Jared in the front seat and Jensen and Misha in the back.

Luckily, Misha had his loyal iPhone with him so he whipped up the Google app and started searching. When no specific results came up when he typed in _Tumbler_ , he got a little lost. He thought no harm could be done, so he casually asked Jensen who was sitting beside him, turned towards the window, not really looking at anything.

“Hey, Jen.”

Jensen scoffed, all too used to the nickname Misha just loved to call him, “Yeah, Mish?”

“You’ve heard of this _tumblumber-_ thingy, right?”

“You mean _Tumblr?”_ Jensen asked and raised his eyebrows, a slight smirk on those puffy lips that the older man couldn’t help but pay a little extra attention to.

He shook his head, realizing he’d been staring at them for longer than what was strictly normal, “Yeah, what you said,” Misha answered, still hoping to sound indifferent about this whole thing, “How do you spell it?”

“Uh,” Jensen looked to be at loss for words for a moment, “With no E, I think.” Jensen totally didn’t know that because he hadn’t been checking it out himself.

Misha’s fingers started working on the touch screen again, this time with a whoop of success when the search got the wanted results. He turned his phone back off once he’d bookmarked a few urls and turned back towards Jensen.

“What are you checking that out for?” the younger man asked, still smiling.

Misha smiled back, “I just wanted to know what the fans were talking about. Looks interesting, wanna join me?”

Jensen just snorted, “Um, no. You go right ahead, though, don’t let me spoil your fun.”

The older man chose to ignore the sudden disappointment he felt and grinned back, hoping it looked real enough not to cause suspicion. He was glad it did, Jensen patted his knee in a friendly gesture and turned to look out the window again.

**

When he eventually got home to Vancouver, he turned his computer on and sat down in front of it. He’d even made coffee, which stood right by the laptop and filled his apartment with that lovely smell.

“T-umb-lr,” he murmured as his fingers typed the letters before hitting enter. It was just a dark blue page with lots of pictures on it. “Maybe I need an account,” he said to himself and did just that.

About an hour, two bathroom breaks and a strawberry milkshake later, he’d finally figured most of that shit out. It wasn’t really that hard once he understood what all those buttons and features meant, and soon enough he had reblogged sixteen posts and picked up two followers.

“Huh, not bad.”

Tagging was something he’d just gotten right, too, and he was just checking out some girl from Los Angeles’ page when he came over a whole photoset of him and Jensen, and clicked the _cockles_ tag. Out of pure curiosity, of course, which then led him to an entire blog dedicated to the two of them.

Now, he had known for some time that the majority of the _Supernatural_ fans liked to imagine some of the actors being together, primarily Jared and Jensen, but someone actually paired Jensen and Misha together as well.

You could say his mind got blown when he scrolled down his dash and saw photoset upon photoset of what could be mistaken as a gay couple, along with a load of videos and gifs – or those harry potter moving picture things, as he liked to call them. There were even several posts with paragraphs of text thoroughly analyzing Jensen and Misha’s behavior whenever they were together. All coming to the same conclusion: they were _so_ gay for each other.

He had to admit that in some pictures and videos they _could_ appear to be a bit in love, but you kind of had to be looking for it to notice it.

“Man, most of these people actually believe it,” he muttered, still scrolling, stopping whenever some interesting pictures came up. He would never admit it, but he always stopped and maybe saved a few of Jensen. If he did, it had nothing to do with him actually sporting a little crush on his co-star. Not at all.

As the night progressed and the population of Jensen-pictures on his hard drive grew,  he began some little soul searching regarding this little Jensen-crush and might’ve realized that his “crush” was in fact a full blown “I’m in love with you, let’s get married”.

“Fuck,” he growled, bringing his face into his hands, cursing himself for falling for not only a co-star, but Jensen fucking Ackles at that, who Misha was pretty certain was straight.

He knew Jensen had dated a Danneel-something in the past, but he’d never met her since Jensen broke up with her just after he started the show.

He continued to curse his entire existence and everything in it until he was too tired to do it anymore. It was already over midnight and they all had early calls tomorrow, so he just slammed his laptop shut and went to bed.

**

One of the reasons Misha loved _tumblr_ was because that’s what eventually brought him and Jensen together, it helped out anyway. The younger man had apparently – according to Jared, which meant no one could take it for truth or not – fallen hard for Misha when he first came to the show.

Misha chose to believe the moose regarding that particular statement because the thought of Jensen loving him back did some strange, but pleasant things to Misha’s heart. How it all went down in the end, though, was less graceful than an old woman slipping on a piece of banana peel.

It was weeks after Misha had first discovered the _cockles_ tag and Jensen had come over with expensive wine, beer and take-out pizza for their weekly movie night. Sometimes they included Jared, sometimes not. This particular night was Jared-free, which Misha was kind of grateful for considering what happened that night.

Jensen had just walked right in as he always did, Misha never complained so he never stopped doing it, “Hey, Mish!”

Since the older man kind of knew that Jensen’s feelings for him ran a little deeper that friendship, he couldn’t help but notice how his eyes seemed to light up whenever he spotted Misha. He had also noticed that he received different smiles than Jared, Jensen’s Misha-smiles were softer, more intimate.

Misha smiled back with what Jared once described as a Jensen-I-love-you smile, and asked Jensen to make himself comfortable while he flew to the bathroom – too much water, before you jump to conclusions.

The younger man had indeed made himself at home and logged onto Misha’s computer, figuring there was no way he could have a problem with that since Misha didn’t really have a problem with a lot of things. Maybe Jensen should’ve asked first, though, because his desktop was full of these small icons that looked all too much like his face.

He clicked on one of them and he blinked in surprise; it _was_ him. All the pictures were of him. “What,” he whispered to himself as he continued to leaf through all of them, so wrapped up in what he was doing that he didn’t hear the older man walking back in.

“So what kin-” Misha started, but stopped short when he saw Jensen and the _picture of Jensen_ on _Misha’s_ computer.

“Uhh,” Misha breathed stupidly, wishing a hole would just appear in the ground and swallow him up. He couldn’t make himself look at the other’s face, too scared of what he might find there, so his gaze shifted from Jensen’s hand, the fridge, a stain on the carpet, anything other than Jensen’s face.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Misha?” Jensen asked. He’d gotten out of the chair and stood right in front of him. Misha looked down at his socks, blushing.

He doesn’t know how long he tried to come up with a logical solution, but eventually he tilted his head back up and glanced straight into Jensen’s eyes. The sheer hope he saw in there made him do what he did next.

 _Jared better be right_ , Misha thought to himself as he lifted a trembling hand, moving it slowly towards Jensen and placed it over his heart. It was beating fast, he vaguely noticed, he felt it vibrate through his palm as if it was a subwoofer instead of a human heart. Jensen swallowed and Misha zoned in on the movement immediately, tongue peeking out to moisturize his own dry lips.

“Mish,” Jensen said, voice low and gruff like Dean’s, but infinitely softer which Misha was glad for. As much as he liked the Dean voice, Misha loved Jensen’s a whole lot more.

One of them eventually closed the distance, but neither can remember who did it, too focused on the feeling of their bodies finally being so close and their lips moving against each other. Seconds became minutes and Misha’s pretty sure minutes turned into hours because when they finally leant back to look at each other, they were both out of air and blushing red.

“How long?” Jensen asked eventually, still blushing which made his freckles more prominent on his cheeks and Misha couldn’t help but put his hand there. Jensen’s hands were on Misha’s neck, thumbs stroking his pulse on either side.

He swallowed, feeling how Jensen’s fingers stilled as he did so, probably liking how it felt. “A while,” he answered, not really knowing since he just figured it out a few weeks ago, but he did know that it had been there, pulsing through his veins, for quite a while. Possibly since their very first day of shooting together.

Jensen nodded, his Misha-smile gracing his red lips, “Me too,” he whispered and kissed Misha again.

The night eventually evolved into making out some more, a lot of naked skin and fucking awesome, hot sex. Misha can’t thank the gods enough for Jared staying home that night.

-

So that’s how Misha Collins came to love _tumblr._ How the feelings of utter hatred developed over the blog-like website is a bit different. It was early 2009 when Jensen and Misha became a couple, so he’d loved it since then, but what eventually made him want it to crash and burn happened in late May 2012.

As it happened, Misha was lazing around on the couch in his and Jensen’s house in Vancouver, they had the day off, something they were both equally happy about and spent the whole day watching movies and baking cookies a la Jensen Ackles.

He was on his daily twitter check, scrolling down the page on his phone, frowning at some of the tweets he’d received. Some of them were downright hurtful and all of them wanted Misha gone from _Supernatural_.

Normally, he was always the one to laugh stuff like this off, but as more and more hateful words appeared in his feed, the more upset he got. Fortunately there was a larger number of tweets hashtagged #welovemishacollins, but that didn’t make him feel much better. Knowing there was such a large number of people out there that hated him, wasn’t something one just forgot about.

Misha logged of twitter and opened the _tumblr_ app instead, but only to find the exact same thing there; more ‘we hate Misha Collins and want his ass off _Supernatural_ ’.

It didn’t take long before he angrily tossed the phone in the general direction of the coffee table, he missed and it hit the floor, but couldn’t bring himself to care. He can’t remember how long he sat there, mulling in his own silence while Jensen was humming quietly in the kitchen, but at some point, his boyfriend caught on to the negative energy that seemed to float about in the living room.

“Hey, Mish, what’s up?” Jensen asked as he walked in, wearing a deep red apron his mother had given them last time they visited Texas. It looked so clean that Misha doubted for a moment if he was actually making cookies.

“Nothing,” he answered, picking at a loose thread in his jeans.

“Yeah, I can see that. Now, tell me what’s wrong or you ain’t getting any of my cookies,” Jensen retorted with a snort and folder his arms in front of his chest.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Misha said, the corners of his lips curving upwards, “And it’s really nothing, Jen, just forget about it.”

Jensen still looked like he didn’t believe a word that was coming out Misha’s mouth, but decided to drop it for now. “Fine, you can taste my cookies, but then you’re gonna have to help me. Or at least talk to me, the radio is not nearly as entertaining as you.”

“Aww,” Misha cooed and grinned widely which only earned him a halfhearted slap in the back of the head from the other man. He was already feeling better about himself and grabbed Jensen’s hand as they walked back into the kitchen together.

-

It was later in the evening, when Misha was sleeping next to Jensen on the couch and the younger man had just turned on his laptop. This is basically the reason both Misha and Jensen hated that weirdo-blog site; Jensen eventually learned the older man had one of those _tumblr_ things and visited it more frequently than he’d liked to admit.

He was skimming and scrolling aimlessly down the dash when something caught his eye, “We love Misha Collins day,” he murmured and smiled. That was a nice thing to do, but when he read more about it, he stopped short. It was a “campaign” against the ‘official we hate Misha Collins day’.

Jensen seethed, how anybody could hate the man who was dozing peacefully next to him, shirt riding up on his stomach so his cute little belly button showed, was completely beyond him. He absently started stroking through the tufts of soft, dark hair on Misha’s head as he read more about it.

It didn’t take long before he got so riled up by the whole thing that he slammed the lid down, a little harsher than intended, and placed it on the coffee table. What hurt the most, though, was that Misha probably knew - that had to be why he looked so upset earlier.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, fingers running through Misha’s hair, before the man in question woke up. “You should get twitter,” he murmured almost intelligibly, arching up into Jensen’s hand like a giant cat.

When Jensen didn’t answer he got up and moved to sit next to him, “Why are you angry?” Misha asked, looking straight at him with the bluest eyes Jensen’s ever seen.

“I love you.”

Misha just blinked, “I love you too, Jen, but why are you angry?” It was disconcerting seeing him like that, brows furrowed the way they only seemed to be when he played Dean.

“The internet.”

“Are you pissed at the internet?”

“ _Tumblr,_ ” he growled, reminding himself of an angry lion.

Misha snorted, but composed himself again when Jensen shot him a glare, “Care to elaborate, honey?”

Jensen didn’t answer, just found his phone and gave it to Misha, “Make me a twitter.”

The older man gave him a flat look, unimpressed with Jensen’s behavior.

“Please.” Misha didn’t move. “Please, sweetheart, could you make me a twitter?”

“Of course, Jen,” the dark haired man said with a smile before leaning in for a kiss that Jensen immediately responded to. “About damn time, dude,” he mumbled, already typing away, fingers quicker than Jensen thought his would ever be.

After only a couple of minutes the phone ended up in Jensen’s lap again, “There you go, you’re already following me, Jared and everybody before you say anything.”

Jensen smiled, “Thanks, now how do I … tweet?”

Misha showed him and smiled when Jensen just kissed him in response. He unlocked his own phone and followed Jensen, the first one ever that he’d follow for more than 24 hours. He couldn’t help the small wave of excitement that washed over him at the thought.

Jensen eventually got done composing a new tweet and Misha grinned as he updated his feed to check it out.

                _@jensenrackles: #ILoveMishaCollins_

The living room was silent for a moment before Misha spoke up again, “You saw it, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question, because there was no doubt that Jensen had seen it, especially when he had tweeted that. Jensen nodded.

“I’m glad the world already knows about us, because they definitely would’ve now,” Misha said, trying to be funny despite knowing Jensen would see right through it, he had a special ability to read Misha like an open book.

“They’re assholes, Mish. The haters are a disgustingly small minority and you know that. People love you, _I_ love you.”

Misha cleared his throat and ignored the way his vision seemed to get a little blurry, “I love you, too. And I know that, it just …” he trailed off, not quite knowing what words to use for once, he was supposed to be the wordsmith here after all.

“I know,” Jensen said and kissed his nose, “Let’s eat cookies and watch _Ace Ventura_ ,” the younger man proposed, stroking Misha’s stubbly cheek.

“I just gotta do one more thing first,” Misha said snatching his phone off the table, and the younger man just snorted and watched his long fingers work on the small screen.

                _@mishacollins: #ILoveJensenAckles_

“We’re too romantic for our own good, this is going to put a damper on my bad boy image,” Jensen said, reading the tweet over his boyfriend’s shoulder.

The older man laughed loudly, “You get the snack and I’ll put it on,” he kissed Jensen again before stepping off the couch and walked over to the DVD player.

“But you don’t even know how that thing works,” Jensen dared to say, laughing all the way into the kitchen.

“You’re lucky you’re such a good baker,” Misha warned, quickly locating the movie – which was one of his favorites – and put it into the machine he’d had some quarrels with in the past. He had recently figured out how to operate the thing, though, so it was ready to play when Jensen came back in with a plate full of fresh oat biscuits with chocolate.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Jensen replied, lips pulled into a smirk, not sorry at all.

“Douche,” Misha answered and grabbed a cookie.

**Author's Note:**

> the songs misha was singing in ch. 1:
> 
> After The Storm and Ghosts That We Knew by Mumford & Sons


End file.
